Reading The Glass House
by Roxy Knight 13
Summary: Claire,Shane,Eve,Michael,Amelie,Oliver,Myrnin,Hann ah,Richard and Monica all come together to read the Morganville Vampires book series.
1. Introduction

Claire Danvers woke up to Eve shaking her shoulder. "Piss off Eve" Claire said as she sat up in bed.

"Just thought I would let you know that Amelie, Oliver, Myrnin, Monica, Richard and Hannah are all down stairs waiting for you to get up." Eve replied.

"Okay, I'm coming. What do they want?"

"I have no idea" said Eve as they walked down stairs and into the living room.

The first thing Claire saw was Myrnin holding a piece of bacon as if it was disgusting. Hannah and Richard were on the floor talking about the police work. Monica was checking on her makeup. Shane was on the sofa looking at a car magazine and Michael was sitting in his chair just watching everyone. Oliver was looking bored as hell next to Amelie who was holding a box of books.

"Now that everyone is here we can start to read these books which are all about Claire's life. So who wants to start?"

"I will" said Claire.

**Yay first chapter of my first fanfiction.**


	2. Chapter 1

**On the day Claire became a member of the Glass House, somebody stole her laundry.**

"That must have been bad" Eve said.

**When she reached into the crappy, beat-up washing machine, she found nothing but the wet slick sides of the drum, and - like a bad joke - the worst pair of underwear she owned, plus one sock. She was in a hurry, of course - there were only a couple of machines on this top floor of Howard Hall, the least valued and most run-down rooms in the least valued, most run-down dorm. Two washing machines, two dryers, and you were lucky if one of them was working on any given day and didn't eat your quarters. Forget about the dollar-bill slot. She'd never seen it work, not in the last six weeks since she'd arrived at school.******

**"No," she said out loud, and balanced herself on the edge of the washer to look down into the dark, partly rusted interior. It smelled like mold and cheap detergent. Getting a closer look didn't help.******

**One crappy pair of underwear, fraying at the seams. One sock.**

"OMG everyone has at least on crappy pair of underwear" Eve said in shock.

"I don't" said Monica.

**She was missing every piece of clothing that she'd worn in the last two weeks. Every piece that she actually wanted to wear.******

**"No!" She yelled it into the washer, where it echoed back at her, and slumped back down, then kicked the washer violently in the dent made by all the other disappointed students before her. She couldn't breathe. She had some other clothes - a few - but they were last-choice clothes, oh-my-God-wouldn't-be-caught-dead clothes. Pants that were too short and made her look like a hick, shirts that were too big and too stupid, and made her look like her mom had picked them out. And she had.******

**Claire had about three hundred dollars left to last her for, well, months, after the latest round of calling out for pizza and buying yet another book for Professor Clueless Euliss, who didn't seem to have figured out yet what subject he was teaching.**

"Hasn't done for the last 3 years" said Amelie.****

**She supposed she could find some clothes, if she looked around, that wouldn't totally blow her entire budget. After all, downtown Morganville, Texas, was the thrift shop capital of the world. Assuming she could find anything she could stand to wear.******

**Mom said this would happen, she thought. I just have to think. Keep my cool.******

**Claire threw herself into an orange plastic chair, dumped her backpack on the scratched linoleum, and put her head in her hands. Her face felt hot, and she was shaking, and she knew, just knew, that she was going to cry. Cry like the baby they all said she was, too young to be here, too young to be away from Mommy.******

**It sucked to be smart, because this was where it got you.**

"WHAT! Not all the time" said Myrnin.****

**She gulped deep, damp breaths and sat back, willing herself not to bawl (because they'd hear), and wondered if she could call Mom and Dad for an extension on her allowance, or use the credit card that was "just for emergencies."******

**Then she saw the note. Not so much "note" as graffiti, but it was addressed to her, on the painted cinder-block wall above the machines.******

**DEAR DORK, it read, WE FOUND TRASH IN THE MACHINES AND THREW IT DOWN THE CHUTE. IF YOU WANT IT, DIVE FOR IT.******

**"Shit," she breathed, and had to blink back tears again, for an entirely different reason. Blind, stupid rage.******

**Monica. Well, Monica and the Monickettes, anyway. Why was it the hot mean girls always ran in packs, like hyenas? And why, with all the shimmery hair and long tanned legs and more of Daddy's money than Daddy's accountants, did they have to focus on her?**

"Yay Danvers thinks I'm hot. How sweet." Said Monica. ****

**No, she knew the answer to that.******

**She'd made Monica look stupid in front of her friends, and some hot upperclassmen. Not that it had been all that hard; she'd just been walking by, heard Monica saying that World War II had been "that dumbass Chinese war thing."******

**And by simple reflex, she'd said, "It wasn't." The whole lot of them, slouched all over the couches in the dorm lobby, looked at her with as much blank surprise as if the Coke machine had just spoken up.**

"That would be awesome" said Shane

**Monica, her friends, three of the cool older frat boys.****  
****"World War II," Claire had plunged on, panicked and not quite sure how to get out of what she'd gotten herself into. "I just meant - well, it wasn't the Korean War. That was later. World War II was with the Germans and the Japanese. You know, Pearl Harbor?"******

**And the guys had looked at Monica and laughed, and Monica had flushed - not much, but enough to ruin the cool perfection of her makeup. "Remind me not to buy any history papers off of you," the cutest of the guys had said. "What kind of dumbass doesn't know that?" Though Claire had been sure none of them had, really. "Chinese. Riiiiight."******

**Claire had seen the fury in Monica's eyes, quickly covered over with smiles and laughter and flirting.******

**Claire had ceased to exist again, for the guys.******

**For the girls, she was brand-new, and unwelcome as hell. She'd been dealing with it all her life. Smart and small and average-looking wasn't exactly winning the life lottery; you had to fight for it, whatever it was. Somebody was always laughing at, or hitting, or ignoring you, or a combination of the first two.******

**She'd thought when she was a kid that getting laughed at was the worst thing, and then - after the first couple of school-yard showdowns - getting hit jumped up to number one. But for most of her (brief, two-year) high school experience, being ignored was worse by far. She'd gotten there a year earlier than everybody else, and left a year ahead of them. Nobody liked that.******

**Nobody but teachers, anyway.******

**The problem was that Claire really loved school. Loved books, and reading, and learning things - okay, not calculus, but pretty much everything else. Physics. What normal girl loved physics? Abnormal ones.**

"You are not abnormal" said Shane****

**Ones who were not ever going to be hot.**

"And you are hot! Way hotter that miss Barbie over there" said Shane pointing in Monica's direction.****

**And face it, being hot? That was what life was all about. As Monica had proved, when the world had wobbled off its axis for a few seconds to notice Claire, and then wobbled right back to revolve around the pretty ones.******

**It wasn't fair. She'd dived in and worked her ass off through high school. Graduated with a perfect 4.0, scored high enough on the tests to qualify for admission to the great schools, the legendary schools, the ones where being a brainiac mutant girl-freak wasn't necessarily a downside. (Except that, of course, at those schools, there were probably hot tall leggy brainiac mutant girl-freaks.) Didn't matter. Mom and Dad had taken one look at the stack of enthusiastic thumbs-up replies from universities like MIT and Caltech and Yale, and clamped down hard. No way was their sixteen-year-old daughter (nearly seventeen, she kept insisting, although it wasn't really true) going to run off three thousand miles to go to school. At least not at first. (Claire had tried, unsuccessfully, to get across the concept that if anything would kill her budding academic career worse than being a transfer student at one of those places, it was being a transfer student from Texas Prairie University. Otherwise known as TPEwwwwwww.)**

"LOL" said Eve.

"What is LOL?" said Myrnin

"It means Laugh Out Loud!" said claire****

**So here she was, stuck on the crappy top floor of a crappy dorm in a crappy school where eighty percent of the students transferred after the first two years - or dropped out - and the Monickettes were stealing her wet laundry and dumping it down the trash chute, all because Monica couldn't be bothered to know anything about one of the world wars big enough to rate a Roman numeral.******

**But it isn't fair! something in her howled. I had a plan! An actual plan! Monica slept late, and Claire had gotten up early just to do laundry while all the party crowd was comatose and the studious crowd was off to classes. She'd thought she could leave it for a couple of minutes to grab her shower - another scary experience - and she'd never even thought about anybody doing something so incredibly low.******

**As she bit back her sobs, she noticed - again - how quiet it was up here. Creepy and deserted, with half the girls deep asleep and the other half gone. Even when it was crowded and buzzing, the dorm was creepy, though. Old, decrepit, full of shadows and corners and places mean girls could lurk. In fact, that summed up the whole town. Morganville was small and old and dusty, full of creepy little oddities. Like the fact that the streetlights worked only half the time, and they were too far apart when they did. Like the way the people in the local campus stores seemed too happy. Desperately happy. Like the fact that the whole town, despite the dust, was clean - no trash, no graffiti, nobody begging for spare change in alleyways.******

**Weird.**

"Not any more" Claire said.****

**She could almost hear her mother saying, Honey, it's just that you're in a strange place. It'll get better.******

**You'll just have to try harder.******

**Mom always said things like that, and Claire had always done her best to hide how hard it was to follow that advice.******

**Well. Nothing to do but try to get her stuff back.******

**Claire gulped a couple more times, wiped her eyes, and hauled the arm-twisting weight of her backpack up and over her shoulder. She stared for a few seconds at the wet pair of panties and one sock clutched in her right hand, then hastily unzipped the front pocket of the backpack and stuffed them in. Man, that would kill whatever cool she had left, if she walked around carrying those.******

**"Well," said a low, satisfied voice from the open door opposite the stairs, "look who it is. The Dumpster diver."******

**Claire stopped, one hand on the rusted iron railing. Something was telling her to run, but something always told her that: fight-or-flight - she'd read the textbooks. And she was tired of flighting. She turned around slowly, as Monica Morrell stepped out of the dorm room - not hers, so she'd busted Erica's lock again. Monica's running buddies Jennifer and Gina filed out and took up flanking positions. Soldiers in flip-flops and low-rise jeans and French manicures.******

**Monica struck a pose. It was something she was good at, Claire had to admit. Nearly six feet tall, Monica had flowing, shiny black hair, and big blue eyes accented with just the right amount of liner and mascara. Perfect skin. One of those model-shaped faces, all cheekbones and pouty lips. And if she had a model's body, it was a Victoria's Secret model, all curves, not angles.**

"Thanks" said Monica**.******

**She was rich, she was pretty, and as far as Claire could tell, it didn't make her a bit happy. What did, though - what made those big blue eyes glow right now - was the idea of tormenting Claire just a little more.******

**"Shouldn't you be in first period at the junior high by now?" Monica asked. "Or at least getting your first period?"******

**"Maybe she's looking for the clothes she left lying around," Gina piled on, and laughed. Jennifer laughed with her. Claire swore their eyes, their pretty jewel-colored eyes, just glowed with the joy of making her feel like shit. "Litterbug!"**

**"Clothes?" Monica folded her arms and pretended to think. "You mean, like those rags we threw away?****The ones she left cluttering up the washer?"******

**"Yeah, those."**

**"I wouldn't wear those to sweat in."******

**"I wouldn't wear them to scrub out the boys' toilet," Jennifer blurted.******

**Monica, annoyed, turned and shoved her. "Yeah, you know all about the boys' toilet, don't you? Didn't you do Steve Gillespie in ninth grade in there?" She made sucking sounds, and they all laughed again, though Jennifer looked uncomfortable. Claire felt her cheeks flare red, even though it wasn't - for a change - a dis against her. "Jeez, Jen, Steve Gillespie? Keep your mouth shut if you can't think of something that won't embarrass yourself."******

**Jennifer - of course - turned her anger on a safer target. Claire. She lunged forward and shoved Claire back a step, toward the stairs. "Go get your stupid clothes already! I'm sick of looking at you, with your pasty skin - "******

**"Yeah, Junior High, ever heard of sunshine?" Gina rolled her eyes.******

**"Watch it," Monica snapped, which was odd, because all three of them had the best tans money could buy.******

**Claire scrambled to steady herself. The heavy backpack pulled her off-balance, and she grabbed on to the banister. Jen lunged at her again and slammed the heel of her hand painfully hard into Claire's collarbone. "Don't!" Claire yelped, and batted Jen's hand away. Hard.******

**There was a second of breathless silence, and then Monica said, very quietly, "Did you just hit my friend, you stupid little bitch? Where do you think you get off, doing things like that around here?"******

**And she stepped forward and slapped Claire across the face, hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to make flares and comets streak across Claire's vision, hard enough to make everything turn red and boiling hot.**

"You little bitch" Eve growled.****

**Claire let go of the banister and slapped Monica right back, full across her pouty mouth, and for just a tight, white-hot second she actually felt good about it, but then Monica hissed like a scorched cat, and Claire had time to think, Oh crap, I really shouldn't have done that.**

"Whoooooo! Yeah! Go Claire" shouted Myrnin while doing a weird dance.****

**She never saw the punch coming. Didn't even really feel the impact, except as a blank sensation and confusion, but then the weight of her backpack on her shoulder was pulling her to one side and she staggered.******

**She almost caught herself, and then Gina, grinning spitefully, reached over and shoved her backward, down the stairs, and there was nothing but air behind her.**

"Ouch!" said Michael for the first time.****

**She hit the edge of every stair, all the way to the bottom. Her backpack broke open and spilled books as she tumbled, and at the top of the stairs Monica and the Monickettes laughed and hooted and high-fived, but she saw it only in disconnected little jerks of motion, freeze-frames.******

**It seemed to take forever before she skidded to a stop at the bottom, and then her head hit the wall with a nasty, meaty sound, and everything went black.**

"I was fine everyone" said Claire.****

**She later remembered only one more thing, in the darkness: Monica's voice, a low and vicious whisper.******

**"Tonight. You'll get what's coming to you, you freak. I'm going to make sure."******

**It seemed like seconds, but when she woke up again there was somebody kneeling next to her, and it wasn't Monica or her nail-polish mafia; it was Erica, who had the room at the top of the stairs, four doors down from Claire's. Erica looked pale and strained and scared, and Claire tried to smile, because that was what you did when somebody was scared. She didn't hurt until she moved, and then her head started to throb. There was a red-hot ache near the top, and when she reached up to touch it she felt a hard raised knot. No blood, though. It hurt worse when she probed the spot, but not in an oh-my-God-skull-fracture kind of way, or at least that was what she hoped.******

**"Are you okay?" Erica asked, waving her hands kind of helplessly in midair as Claire wiggled her way up to a sitting position against the wall. Claire risked a quick look past her up the stairs, then down. The coast looked Monica-clear. Nobody else had come out to see what was up, either - most of them were afraid of getting in trouble, and the rest just flat didn't care.******

**"Yeah," she said, and managed a shaky laugh. "Guess I tripped."******

**"You need to go to the quack shack?" Which was college code for the university clinic. "Or, God, an ambulance or whatever?"**

**"No. No, I'm okay." Wishful thinking, but although basically everything in her body hurt like hell, nothing felt like it had broken into pieces. Claire got to her feet, winced at a sore ankle, and picked up her backpack. Notebooks tumbled out. Erica grabbed a couple and jammed them back in, then ran lightly up a few steps to gather the scattered textbooks. "Damn, Claire, do you really need all this crap? How many classes do you have in a day?"******

**"Six."**

"That's nuts" said Monica.****

**"You're nuts." Erica, good deed done, reverted to the neutrality that all the noncool girls in the dorm had shown her so far. "Better get to the quack shack, seriously. You look like crap."******

**Claire pasted on a smile and kept it there until Erica got to the top of the stairs and started complaining about the broken lock on her dorm room.******

**Tonight, Monica had leaned over and whispered. You'll get what's coming to you, you freak. She hadn't called anybody, or tried to find out if Claire had a broken neck. She didn't care if Claire died.******

**No, that was wrong. The problem was, she did care.******

**Claire tasted blood. Her lip was split, and it was bleeding. She wiped at the mess with the back of her hand, then the hem of her T-shirt before realizing that it was literally the only thing she had to wear. I need to go down to the basement and get my clothes out of the trash. The idea of going down there - going anywhere alone in this dorm - suddenly terrified her. Monica was waiting. And the other girls wouldn't do anything. Even Erica, who was probably the nicest one in the whole place, was scared to come right out on her side. Hell, Erica got hassled, too, but she was probably just as glad that Claire was there to get the worst of it. This wasn't just as bad as high school, where she'd been treated with contempt and casual cruelty - this was worse, a lot worse. And she didn't even have any friends here. Erica was about the best she'd been able to come up with, and Erica was more concerned about her broken door than Claire's broken head.******

**She was alone. And if she hadn't been before, she was scared now. Really, really scared. What she'd seen in the Monica Mafia's eyes today wasn't just the usual lazy menace of cool girls versus the geeks; this was worse. She'd gotten casual shoves or pinches before, trips, mean laughter, but this was more like lions coming in for the kill.******

**They're going to kill me.******

**She started shakily down the flights of stairs, every step a wincing pain through her body, and remembered that she'd slapped Monica hard enough to leave a mark.******

**Yeah. They're going to kill me.**

**If Monica ended up with a bruise on that perfect face, there wasn't any question about it.**

"End of the chapter. Who wants to read next?" said Claire.

"I will" said Michael.

**God this took forever!**

**Please review 3 3**


	3. Chapter 2

**Erica was right about the quack shack being the logical first stop; Claire got her ankle wrapped, an ice pack, and some frowns over the forming bruises. Nothing broken, but she was going to be black-and-blue for days. The doctor asked some pro forma questions about boyfriends and stuff, but since she could truthfully say that no, her boyfriend hadn't beaten her up, he just shrugged and told her to watch her step.**

"Stupid idiot!" said Shane.****

He wrote her an excuse note, too, and gave her some painkillers and told her to go home.

No way was she going back to the dorm. Truth was, she didn't have much in the room - some books, a few photos of home, some posters... She hadn't even had a chance to call it home, and for whatever reason, she'd never really felt safe there. It had always felt like...a warehouse. A warehouse for kids who were, one way or another, going to leave.

She limped over to the Quad, which was a big empty concrete space with some rickety old benches and picnic tables, cornered on all sides by squat, unappealing buildings that mostly just looked like boxes with windows. Architecture-student projects, probably. She heard a rumor that one of them had fallen down a few years back, but then, she'd also heard rumors about a janitor getting beheaded in the chem lab and haunting the building, and zombies roaming the grounds after dark, so she wasn't putting too much stock in it.

"Not zombies, but vampires" said Myrnin.****

It was midafternoon already, and not a lot of students were hanging around the Quad, with its lack of shade - great design, considering that the weather was still hovering up in the high nineties in September.

Claire picked up a campus paper from the stand, carefully took a seat on the blazing-hot bench, and opened it to the "Housing" section. Dorm rooms were out of the question; Howard Hall and Lansdale Hall were the only two that took in girls under twenty. She wasn't old enough to qualify for the coed dorms. Stupid rules were probably written when girls wore hoopskirts, she thought, and skipped the dorm listings until she got to OFF CAMPUS. Not that she was really allowed to be living off campus; Mom and Dad would have a total freak-out over it, no question. But...if it was between Monica and parental freakage, she'd take the latter. After all, the important thing was to get herself someplace where she felt safe, where she could study.

Right?

"Right!" said Myrnin.****

She dug in her backpack, found her cell phone, and checked for coverage. It was kind of lame in Morganville, truthfully, out in the middle of the prairie, in the middle of Texas, which was about as middle of nowhere as it was possible to get unless you wanted to go to Mongolia or something. Two bars. Not great, but it'd do.

Claire started dialing numbers. The first person told her that they'd already found somebody, and hung up before she could even say, "Thanks." The second one sounded like a weird old guy. The third one was a weird old lady. The fourth one...well, the fourth one was just plain weird.

The fifth listing down read,

THREE ROOMMATES SEEKING FOURTH, huge old house, privacy assured, reasonable rent and utilities.

Which...okay, she wasn't sure that she could afford "reasonable" - she was more looking for "dirt cheap" - but at least it sounded less weird than the others. Three roommates. That meant three more people who'd maybe take up for her if Monica and company came sniffing around...or at least take up for the house. Hmmmmm.

She called, and got an answering machine with a mellow-sounding, young-sounding male voice.

"Michael!" shouted eve and Shane.

**"Hello, you've reached the Glass House. If you're looking for Michael, he sleeps days. If you're looking for Shane, good luck with that, 'cause we never know where the hell he is" - distant laughter from at least two people - "and if you're looking for Eve, you'll probably get her on her cell phone or at the shop. But hey. Leave a message. And if you're looking to audition for the room, come on by. It's 716 West Lot Street." A totally different voice, a female one lightened up by giggles like bubbles in soda, said, "Yeah, just look for the mansion." **

"Eve!" shouted Shane.

**And then a third voice, male again. "Gone with the Wind meets The Munsters." More laughter, and a beep.**

"Shane!" shouted eve.****

Claire blinked, coughed, and finally said, "Um...hi. My name is Claire? Claire Danvers? And I was, um, calling about the, um, room thing. Sorry." And hung up in a panic. Those three people sounded...normal.

But they sounded pretty close, too. And in her experience, groups of friends like that just didn't open up to include underage, undersized geeks like her. They hadn't sounded mean; they just sounded - self-confident. Something she wasn't.

"Well you are now" said Michael.****

She checked the rest of the listings, and felt her heart actually sink a little. Maybe an inch and a half, with a slight sideways twist. God, I'm dead. She couldn't sleep out here on a bench like some homeless loser, and she couldn't go back to the dorm; she had to do something.

Fine, she thought, and snapped her phone shut, then open again to dial a cab.

Seven sixteen Lot Street. Gone with the Wind meets The Munsters. Right.

Maybe they'd at least feel sorry enough for her to put her up for one lousy night.

The cabbie - she figured he was just about the only cabdriver in Morganville, which apart from the campus at TPU on the edge of town had only about ten thousand people in it - took an hour to show up.

Claire hadn't been in a car in six weeks, since her parents had driven her into town. She hadn't been much beyond a block of the campus, either, and then just to buy used books for class.

"You meeting someone?" the cabbie asked. She was staring out the window at the storefronts: used-clothing shops, used-book shops, computer stores, stores that sold nothing but wooden Greek letters. All catering to the college.

"No," she said. "Why?"

The cabbie shrugged. "Usually you kids are meeting up with friends. If you're looking for a good time - "

"Ewwwwwww" shouted everyone.****

She shivered. "I'm not. I'm - yes, I'm meeting some people. If you could hurry, please...?"

He grunted and took a right turn, and the cab went from Collegetown to Creepytown in one block flat.

She couldn't define how it happened exactly - the buildings were pretty much the same, but they looked dim and old, and the few people moving on the streets had their heads down and were walking fast. Even when people were walking in twos or threes, they weren't chatting. When the cab passed, people looked up, then down again, as if they'd been looking for another kind of car.

A little girl was walking with her hand in her mother's, and as the cab stopped for a light, the girl waved, just a little. Claire waved back.

The girl's mother looked up, alarmed, and hustled her kid away into the black mouth of a store that sold used electronics. Wow, Claire thought. Do I look that scary? Maybe she did. Or maybe Morganville was just ultracareful of its kids.

"Yeah, something like that." Said Hannah.****

Funny, now that she thought about it, there was something missing in this town. Signs. She'd seen them all her life stapled to telephone poles...advertisements for lost dogs, missing kids or adults.

Nothing here. Nothing.

"Lot Street," the cabbie announced, and squealed to a stop. "Ten fifty."

For a five-minute ride? Claire thought, amazed, but she paid up. She thought about shooting him the finger as he drove away, but he looked kind of dangerous, and besides, she really wasn't the kind of girl who did that sort of thing. Usually. It was a bad day, though.

She hoisted her backpack again, hit a bruise on her shoulder, and nearly dropped the weight on her foot.

Tears stung at her eyes. All of a sudden she felt tired and shaky again, scared... At least on campus she'd kind of been on relatively familiar ground, but out here in town it was like being a stranger, all over again.

Morganville was brown. Burned brown by the sun, beaten down by wind and weather. Hot summer was starting to give way to hot autumn, and the leaves on the trees - what trees there were - looked gray-edged and dry, and they rattled like paper in the wind. West Lot Street was near what passed for the downtown district in town, probably an old residential neighborhood. Nothing special about the homes that she could see...ranch houses, most of them with peeling, faded paint.

"We should really get the street done up." Said Eve.****

She counted house numbers, and realized she was standing in front of 716. She turned and looked behind her, and gasped, because whoever the guy had been on the phone, he'd been dead-on right in his description. Seven sixteen looked like a movie set, something straight out of the Civil War. Big graying columns. A wide front porch. Two stories of windows.

The place was huge. Well, not huge - but bigger than Claire had imagined. Like, big enough to be a frat house, and probably perfectly suited to it. She could just imagine Greek letters over the door.

"Like this place would ever become a frat house" sneered Monica.****

It looked deserted, but to be fair every house on the block looked deserted. Late afternoon, nobody home from work yet. A few cars glittered in the white-hot sunshine, finish softened by a layer of dirt. No cars in front of 716, though.

This was such a bad idea, she thought, and there were those tears again, bubbling up along with panic.

What was she going to do? Walk up to the door and beg to be a roommate? How lame-ass was that?

They'd think she was pathetic at best, a head case at worst. No, it had been a dumb idea to even blow the money on cab fare.

It was hot, and she was tired and she hurt and she had homework due, and no place to sleep, and all of a sudden, it was just too much.

Claire dropped her backpack, buried her bruised face in both hands, and just started sobbing like a baby. Crybaby freak, she imagined Monica saying, but that just made her sob harder, and all of a sudden the idea of going home, going home to Mom and Dad and the room she knew they'd kept open for her, seemed better, better than anything out here in the scary, crazy world...

"Yep, crazy alright." Said Hannah.****

"Hey," a girl's voice said, and someone touched her on the elbow. "Hey, are you okay?"

Claire yelped and jumped, landed hard on her strained ankle, and nearly toppled over. The girl who'd scared her reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her, looking genuinely scared herself. "I'm sorry! God, I'm such a klutz. Look, are you okay?"

The girl wasn't Monica, or Jen, or Gina, or anybody else she'd seen around the campus at TPU; this girl was way Goth. Not in a bad way - she didn't have the sulky I'm-so-not-cool-I'm-cool attitude of most of the Goths Claire had known in school - but the dyed-black, shag-cut hair, the pale makeup, the heavy eyeliner and mascara, the red-and-black-striped tights and clunky black shoes and black pleated miniskirt...very definitely a fan of the dark side.

"I love that outfit" said Eve.****

"My name's Eve," the girl said, and smiled. It was a sweet, funny kind of smile, something that invited Claire to share in a private joke. "Yeah, my parents really named me that, go figure. It's like they knew how I'd turn out." Her smile faded, and she took a good look at Claire's face. "Wow. Jeez, nice black eye. Who hit you?"

"Nobody." Claire said it instantly, without even thinking why, although she knew in her bones that Goth Eve was in no way bestest friends with preppy Monica. "I had an accident."

"Yeah," Eve agreed softly. "I used to have those kinds of accidents, falling into fists and stuff. Like I said, I'm a klutz. You okay? You need a doctor or something? I can drive you if you want."

She gestured to the street next to them, and Claire realized that while she'd been sobbing her eyes out, an ancient beater of a black Cadillac - complete with tail fins - had been docked at the curb. There was a cheery-looking skull dangling from the rearview mirror, and Claire had no doubt that the back bumper would be plastered with stickers for emo bands nobody had ever heard of.

"I miss that car" said Eve.****

She liked Eve already. "No," she said, and swiped at her eyes angrily with the back of her hand. "I, uh - look, I'm sorry. It's been a really awful day. I was coming to ask about the room, but - "

"Right, the room!" Eve snapped her fingers, as if she'd forgotten all about it, and jumped up and down two or three times in excitement. "Great! I'm just home for break - I work over at Common Grounds, you know, the coffee shop? - and Michael won't be up for a while yet, but you can come in and see the house if you want. I don't know if Shane's around, but - "

"I don't know if I should - "

"You should. You totally should." Eve rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe the losers we see trying to get in the door. I mean, seriously. Freaks. You're the first normal one I've seen so far. Michael would kick my ass if I let you get away without at least trying a sales pitch."

Claire blinked. Somehow, she'd been thinking that she'd be the one begging for them to consider her...and normal? Eve thought she was normal?

"You are normal" said everyone apart from Monica.****

"Sure," she heard herself say. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Eve grabbed her backpack and slung it over her own shoulder, on top of her black silver-studded purse in the shape of a coffin. "Follow me." And she bounced away, up the walk to the gracious Southern Gothic front porch to unlock the door.

Up close, the house looked old, but not really rundown as such; weathered, Claire decided. Could have used some paint here and there, and the cast-iron chairs needed a coat, too. The front door was actually double-sized, with a big stained-glass panel at the top.

"Yo!" Eve yelled, and dumped Claire's backpack on a table in the hallway, her purse next to it, her keys in an antique-looking ashtray with a cast-iron monkey on the handle. "Roomies! We've got a live one!"

It occurred to Claire, as the door boomed shut behind her, that there were a couple of ways to interpret that, and one of them - the Texas Chainsaw Massacre way - wasn't good. She stopped moving, frozen, and just looked around.

Nothing overtly creepy about the inside of the house, at least. Lots of wood, clean and simple. Chips of paint knocked off of corners, like it had seen a lot of life. It smelled like lemon polish and - chili?

"Yo!" Eve yelled again, and clumped on down the hall. It opened up to a bigger room; from what Claire could see, there were big leather couches and bookshelves, like a real home. Maybe this was what off-campus housing looked like. If so, it was a big step up from dorm life. "Shane, I smell the chili. I know you're here! Get your headphones out of your ears!"

She couldn't quite imagine Texas Chainsaw Massacre taking place in a room like that, either. That was a plus. Or, for that matter, serial-killing roommates doing something as homey as making chili. Good chili, from the way it smelled. With...garlic?

All the vampires had a look of disgust on their faces.****

She took a couple of hesitant steps down the hallway. Eve's footsteps were clunking off into another room, maybe the kitchen. The house seemed very quiet. Nothing jumped out to scare her, so Claire proceeded, one careful foot after another, all the way into the big central room.

And a guy lying sprawled on the couch - the way only guys could sprawl - yawned and sat up rubbing his head. When Claire opened her mouth - whether to say hello or to yell for help, she didn't know - he surprised her into silence by grinning at her and putting his finger over his mouth to shush her. "Hey," he whispered. "I'm Shane. What's up?" He blinked a couple of times, and without any change in his expression, said, "Dude, that is a badass shiner. Hurts, huh?"

She nodded slightly. Shane swung his legs off the couch and sat there, watching her, elbows on his knees and hands dangling loosely. He had brown hair, cut in uneven layers that didn't quite manage to look punk. He was an older boy, older than her, anyway. Eighteen? A big guy, and tall to match it. Big enough to make her feel more miniature than usual. She thought his eyes looked brown, but she didn't dare meet them for more than a flicker at a time.

"Did I say he looks sexy to" said Claire.**  
**

**"So I guess you're gonna say that the other chick looks worse," Shane said.**

She shook her head, then winced when motion made it hurt even more. "No, I - um - how did you know it was - ?"

"A chick? Easy. Size you are, a guy would have put you in the hospital with a punch hard enough to leave a mark like that. So what's up with that? You don't look like you go looking for trouble."

She felt like she ought to take offense about that, but honestly, this whole thing was starting to feel like some strange dream anyway. Maybe she'd never woken up at all. Maybe she was lying in a coma in a hospital bed, and Shane was just her lame-ass equivalent of the Cheshire cat. "I'm Claire," she said, and waved awkwardly. "Hi."

He nodded toward a leather wing chair. She slid into it, feet dangling, and felt a weird sense of relief wash over her. It felt like home, although of course it wasn't, and she was starting to think that it really couldn't be. She didn't fit here. She couldn't actually imagine who would.

"You so fit here" the glass house members said.****

"You want something?" Shane asked suddenly. "Coke, maybe? Chili? Bus ticket back home?"  


**"Coke," she said, and, surprisingly, "and chili."  
**

**"Good choice. I made it myself." He slid off the couch, weirdly boneless for his size, and padded barefoot into the kitchen where Eve had gone. Claire listened to a blur of voices as the two of them talked, and relaxed, one muscle at a time, into the soft embrace of the chair. She hadn't noticed until now, but the house was kept cool, and the lazy circle of the ceiling fan overhead swept chilly air over her hot, aching face. It felt nice.**

She opened her eyes at the sound of Eve's shoes clomping back into the room. Eve was carrying a tray with a red and white can, a bowl, a spoon, and an ice pack. She set the tray on a coffee table and nudged the table toward Claire with her knee. "Ice pack first," she said. "You can never tell what Shane puts in the chili. Be afraid."

"It's not that bad" said Shane.****

Shane padded back to the couch and flopped, sucking on his own can of soda. Eve shot him an exasperated look. "Yeah, man, thanks for bringing me one, too." The raccoon eye makeup exaggerated her eye roll. "Dork."  


**"Didn't know if you wanted zombie dirt sprinkled on it or anything. If you're eating this week."  
**

**"Dork! Go on and eat, Claire - I'll go get my own."**

Claire picked up the spoon and tried a tentative bite of the chili, which was thick and meaty and spicy, heavy on the garlic. Delicious, in fact. She'd gotten used to cafeteria food, and this was just...wow. Not.

Shane watched her, eyebrows up, as she started to shovel it in. "'Sgood," she mumbled. He gave her a lazy salute. By the time she was halfway through the bowl, Eve was back with her own tray, which she plunked down on the other half of the coffee table. Eve sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and dug in.

"Not bad," she finally said. "At least you left out the oh-my-God sauce this time."

"Made myself a batch with it," Shane said. "It's got the biohazard sticker on it in the fridge, so don't bitch if you get flamed. Where'd you pick up the stray?"

"Outside. She came to see the room."

"You beat her up first, just to make sure she's tough enough?"

"Bite me, chili boy."

"Don't mind Eve," he told Claire. "She hates working days. She's afraid she'll tan."

"LOL" said Myrnin.****

"Yeah, and Shane just hates working. So what's your name?"

Claire opened her mouth, but Shane beat her to it, clearly happy to one-up his roomie. "Claire. What, you didn't even ask? A chick beat her up, too. Probably some skank in the dorms. You know how that place is."

They exchanged a look. A long one. Eve turned back to Claire. "Is that true? You got beat up in the dorm?" She nodded, hastily shoveling more food in her mouth to keep from having to say much. "Well, that totally blows. No wonder you're looking for the room." Another nod. "You didn't bring much with you."

"I don't have much," she said. "Just the books, and maybe a couple of things back at my room. But - I don't want to go back there to get stuff. Not tonight."

"Why not?" Shane had grabbed a ratty-looking old baseball from the floor and tossed it up toward the tall ceiling, narrowly missing the spinning blades of the fan. He caught it without effort. "Somebody still looking to pound you?"  


**"Yeah," Claire said, and looked down into her fast-diminishing chili. "Guess so. It's not just her, it's - she's got friends. And...I don't. That place just - well, it's creepy."**

"Been there," Eve said. "Oh, wait, still there."

Shane mimed throwing the baseball at her. She mimed ducking.

"What time is Michael getting up?"

Shane gave her another mock throw. "Hell, Eve, I don't know. I love the guy, but I don't love the guy. Go bang on his door and ask. Me, I'm gonna go get ready."

"Ready for what?" Eve asked. "You're not seriously going out again, are you?"

"Seriously, yeah. Bowling. Her name's Laura. If you want more details, you're gonna have to download the video like everybody else." Shane rolled off the couch, stood up, and padded off toward the wide stairs leading up to the second floor. "See you later, Claire."

Eve made a frustrated sound. "Wait a minute! So what do you say? You think she'd do okay here, or what?"

Shane waved a hand. "Whatever, man. Far as I'm concerned, she's okay." He gave Claire one quick look and a crooked and oddly sweet smile, and bounded up the stairs. He moved like an athlete, but without the swagger she was used to. Kind of hot, actually.

"Yep, defiantly hot" said Claire.****

"Guys," Eve sighed. "Damn, it'd be good to have another girl in here. They're all like, Yeah, whatever, and then when it comes to picking up the place or washing dishes, they turn into ghosts. Not that you have to, like, be a maid or anything, I mean...you just got to yell at 'em until they do their part or they walk all over you."

Claire smiled, or tried to, but her split lip throbbed, and she felt the scab break open again. Blood dribbled down her chin, and she grabbed the napkin Eve had put on the tray and applied pressure to her lip. Eve watched in silence, frowning, and then got up from the floor, picked up the ice pack, and settled it gently against the bump on Claire's head. "How's that?" she asked.

"Better." It was. The ice began to numb the ache almost immediately, and the food was setting up a nice warm fire in her stomach. "Um, I guess I should ask...about the room..."

"Well, you have to meet Michael, and he has to say yes, but Michael's a sweetie, really. Oh, and he owns this place. His family does, anyway. I think they moved away and left him the house a couple of years ago. He's about six months older than I am. We're all about eighteen. Michael's sort of the oldest."

"He sleeps days?"

"Yeah. I mean, I like to sleep days, but he's got a thing about it. I called him a vampire once, 'cause he really doesn't like being up in the daytime. Like, ever. He didn't think it was real funny."

"You're sure he's not a vampire?" Claire said. "I've seen movies. They're sneaky." She was kidding.

Eve didn't smile.

"Oh, pretty sure. For one thing, he eats Shane's chili, which, God knows, has enough garlic to explode a dozen high-quality Dracs. And I made him touch a cross once." Eve took a big swallow of her Coke.

"You - what? Made him?"

"Well, sure, yeah. I mean, a girl can't be too careful, especially around here." Claire must have looked blank, because Eve did the eye-roll thing again. It was her favorite expression, Claire was sure. "In Morganville? You know?"

"What about it?"

"You mean you don't know? How can you not know?" Eve set her can down and got up to her knees, leaning elbows on the coffee table. She looked earnest under the thick makeup. Her eyes were dark brown, edged with gold. "Morganville's full of vampires."

Claire laughed.

Eve didn't. She just kept staring.

"Um...you're kidding?"

"How many kids graduate TPU every year?"

"I don't know... It's a crappy college, most everybody transfers out..."

"Everybody leaves. Or at least, they stop showing up, right? I can't believe you don't know this. Didn't anybody tell you the score before you moved in? Look, the vamps run the town. They're in charge. And either you're in, or you're out. If you work for them, if you pretend like they're not here and they don't exist, and you look the other way when things happen, then you and your family get a free pass. You get Protection. Otherwise..." Eve pulled a finger across her throat and bugged out her eyes.

"So true" said Richard.****

Right, Claire thought, and put down her spoon. No wonder nobody rented a room with these people.

They're nuts. It was too bad. Except for the crazy part, she really liked them.

"Yeah, your all nuts" said Monica.****

"You think I'm wacko," Eve said, and sighed. "Yeah, I get that. I'd think I was, too, except I grew up in a Protected house. My dad works for the water company. My mom is a teacher. But we all wear these."

She extended her wrist. On it was a black leather bracelet, with a symbol on it in red, nothing Claire recognized. It looked kind of like a Chinese character. "See how mine's red? Expired. It's like health insurance. Kids are only covered until they're eighteen. Mine was up six months ago." She looked at it mournfully, then shrugged and unsnapped it to drop it on her tray. "Might as well stop wearing it, I guess. It sure wouldn't fool anybody."

Claire just looked at her, helpless, wondering if she was the victim of a practical joke, and if any second Eve was going to laugh and call her an idiot for buying it, and Shane would go from kind of lazy-sweet to cruel and shove her out the door, mocking all the way. Because this wasn't the way the world worked.

You didn't like people, and then have them turn up all crazy, right? Couldn't you tell?

The alternative - that Eve wasn't crazy at all - just wasn't anything Claire wanted to think about. She remembered the people on the street, walking fast, heads down. The way the mother had yanked her little girl off the street at a friendly wave.

"Fine. Go ahead, think I'm nuts," Eve said, and sat back on her heels. "I mean, why wouldn't I be? And I won't try to convince you or anything. Just - don't go out after dark unless you're with somebody. Somebody Protected, if you can find them. Look for the bracelet." She nudged hers with one finger.

"The symbol's white when it's active."

"But I - " Claire coughed, trying to find something to say. If you can't say anything nice... "Okay. Thanks. Um, is Shane - ?"

"Shane? Protected?" Eve snorted. "As if! Even if he was, which I doubt, he'd never admit it, and he doesn't wear the bracelet or anything. Michael - Michael isn't, either, but there's sort of a standard Protection on houses. We're sort of outcasts here. There's safety in numbers, too."

It was a very weird conversation to be having over chili and Coke, with an ice pack perched on the top of her head. Claire, without even knowing she was going to do it, yawned. Eve laughed.

"Call it a bedtime story," she said. "Listen, let me show you the room. Worst case, you lie down for a while, let the ice pack work, then bug out. Or hey, you wake up and decide you want to talk to Michael before you leave. Your choice."

Another cold chill swept over her, and she shivered. Probably had to do with the bang on the head, she figured, and how tired she was. 

"Nope it was me!" said Michael.

**She dug in her pocket, found the package of pills the doc had prescribed for her, and swallowed one with the last gulp of Coke. Then she helped Eve carry the trays into the kitchen, which was huge, with stone sinks and ancient polished counters and two modern conveniences - the stove and the refrigerator - stuck awkwardly in the corners. The chili had come from a Crock-Pot, which was still simmering away.**

When the dishes had been washed, trays stacked, trash discarded, Eve retrieved Claire's backpack from the floor and led her through the living room, up the stairs. On the third riser, Eve turned, alarmed, and said, "Hey, can you make it up the stairs? Because, you know - "

"I'm okay," Claire lied. Her ankle hurt like hell, but she wanted to see the room. And if they were likely to throw her out later, she at least wanted to sleep one more time in a bed, however lumpy and old.

There were thirteen steps to the top. She made every one of them, even though she left sweaty fingerprints on a banister Shane hadn't even bothered to touch on his way up earlier.

Eve's steps were muffled here by a rich old-looking rug, all swirls and colors, that ran down the center of the polished wood floor. There were six doors up here on the landing. As they passed them, Eve pointed and named. "Shane's." The first door. "Michael's." The second door. "He's got that one, too - it's a double-sized room." Third door. "Main bathroom." Fourth. "The second bathroom's downstairs - that's kind of the emergency backup bathroom when Shane's in there moussing his hair for like an hour or something..."

"Bite me!" Shane yelled from behind the closed door. Eve pounded a fist on the door and led Claire to the last two on the row. "This one's mine. Yours is on the end."

When she swung it open, Claire - prepared for disappointment - actually gasped. For one thing, it was huge. Three times the size of her dorm room. For another, it was on a corner, with three - three! - windows, all currently shaded by blinds and curtains. The bed wasn't some dorm-sized miniature; it was a full-sized mattress and box spring with massive wooden columns at the corners, dark and solid. There was a dresser along one wall big enough to hold, well, four or five times the clothes that Claire had ever owned. Plus a closet. Plus...

"Is that a TV?" she asked in a faint voice.

"Yeah. Satellite cable. You'd pitch in, though, unless you want to take it out of the room. Oh, and there's Internet, too. Broadband, over there. I should probably warn you, they monitor Internet traffic around here, though. You have to be careful what you say in messages and stuff." Eve put the backpack on top of the dresser. "You don't have to decide right now. You probably ought to rest first. Here, here's your ice pack." She followed Claire to the bed and helped her pull back the covers, and once Claire had pulled off her shoes and settled, she tucked her in, like a mother, and put the ice pack on her head.

"Eve you were really nice to me back then." Said Claire.****

"When you get up, Michael'll probably be awake. I have to get back to work, but it'll be okay. Really."

Claire smiled at her, a little fuzzily; the painkillers were starting to take effect. She got another chill.

"Thank you, Eve," she said. "This is - wow."

"Yeah, well, you look like you could use a little wow today." Eve shrugged, and gave her a stunning smile back. "Sleep well. And don't worry, the vampires won't come in here. This house has Protection, even if we don't."

Claire turned that over in her mind for a few seconds as Eve left the room and shut the door, and then her mind wandered off in happy clouds of noticing the softness of the pillow and how good the bed felt, and how crisp the sheets were...

She dreamed about the strangest thing: a silent room, with someone pale and quiet sitting on a velvet sofa, turning pages in a book and weeping. It didn't scare her, exactly, but she felt cold, on and off, and the house...the house seemed like it was full of whispers.

Eventually, she fell into a deeper, darker place, and didn't dream at all.

Not even about Monica.

Not even about vampires.

"Wow!" said Shane.

"Yeah. Who is reading next?" said Michael.

"I will" said Eve.

**Yay next chapter up soon.**

**Please review! 3 3**


	4. Chapter 3

**hey another chapter!  
**

**i don't own Morganville Vampires.**

* * *

**She woke up in the dark with a panicked flinch that sent the ice pack - water sloshing in a bag now - thumping off her pillow and onto the floor. The house was quiet, except for the creaky, creepy noises houses made at night. Outside, wind rattled the dry leaves on the trees, and she heard music coming from the other side of the bedroom door.**

**Claire slid out of bed, fumbled for a lamp, and found one next to the bed - Tiffany-style glass, really nice - and the colorful glow chased away any nightmare fears she'd been trying to have. The music was slow and warm and contemplative, kind of guitar alternative. She got her shoes on, took a look in the dresser mirror, and got a nasty shock. Her face still hurt, and it was obvious why - her right eye was swollen, the skin around it purple. Her split lip looked shiny and unpleasantly thick, too. Her face - always pale - looked even paler than normal. Her short pixie-cut black hair had a serious case of bed-head, but she fluffed it out into something like order. She'd never really been much for makeup, even when she'd been stealing Mom's to try on, but today maybe a little foundation and concealer couldn't hurt... She looked ragged, and beaten, and homeless.**

**Well. It was nothing but the truth, after all.**

**Claire took a deep breath and opened her bedroom door. Lights were on in the hall, warm and glowing gold; the music was coming from downstairs, in the living room. She checked a clock hanging on the wall at the far end; it was after midnight - she'd slept for more than twelve hours.**

"wow even I can't sleep for that long" said Shane.

**And missed all her classes. Not that she'd have wanted to show up looking like this, even if she hadn't been so paranoid about Monica following her around...but she'd need to hit the books later. At least the books didn't hit back.**

"some do" said Myrnin.

He got a lot of confused looks.

**Her bruises felt better, and in fact her head hurt only a little. Her ankle was still the worst of it, sending sharp glassy jabs of pain up her leg with every step down the stairs.**

**She was halfway down when she saw the boy sitting on the couch, where Shane had been sprawled before. He had a guitar in his hands.**

**Oh. The music. She'd thought it was a recording, but no, this was real, this was live, and he was playing it. She'd never heard live music before - not really playing, not like this. He was...wow. He was wonderful.**

"Wonderful! Claire are you nuts? It's AMAZING!" shouted Eve.

"Thanks babe" said Michael.

**She watched him, frozen, because he clearly didn't even know she existed yet; it was just him and the guitar and the music, and if she had to put a name to what she could see on his face, it would be something poetic, like longing. He was blond, his hair cut kind of like Shane's, in a careless mop. Not as big as Shane, and not as muscled, though he was maybe as tall. He was wearing a T-shirt, too, black, with a beer logo. Blue jeans. No shoes.**

**He stopped playing, head down, and reached for the open beer on the table in front of him. He toasted empty air. "Happy birthday to you, man." He tossed back three swallows, sighed, and put the bottle down. "And here's to house arrest. What the hell. Own it or get owned."**

**Claire coughed. He turned, startled, and saw her standing there on the stairs; his frown cleared after a second or two. "Oh. You're the one Shane said wanted to talk about the room. Hey. Come on down."**

**She did, trying not to limp, and when she got into the full light she saw his quick, intelligent blue eyes catalog the bruises.**

**He didn't say a word about them. "I'm Michael," he said. "And you're not eighteen, so this is going to be a real short conversation."**

**She sat, fast, heart pounding. "I'm in college," she said. "I'm a freshman. My name is - "**

**"Don't bullshit me, and I don't care what your name is. You're not eighteen. It's a good bet you're not even seventeen. We don't take anybody in this house who isn't legal." He had a deep voice, warm but - at least right now - hard. "Not that you'd be signing on to Orgy Central, but sorry, me and Shane have to worry about things like that. All it takes is you living here and somebody even hinting there's something going on - "**

"omg Michael! why did you do that? You were so cruel!"said Eve.

**"Wait," she blurted. "I wouldn't do that. Or say that. I'm not looking to get you guys in trouble. I just need - "**

**"No," he said. He put the guitar aside, in its case, and latched it shut. "I'm sorry, but you can't stay here. ****House rules."**

"You idiot!" Said Shane.

**She'd known it was coming, of course, but she'd let herself think - Eve had been nice, and Shane hadn't been horrible, and the room was so nice - but the look in Michael's eyes was as final as it got. Complete and utter rejection.**

**She felt her lips trembling, and hated herself for it. Why couldn't she be a badass, stone-cold bitch? Why couldn't she stand up for herself when she needed to, without breaking down into tears like a baby?**

**Monica wouldn't be crying. Monica would be snapping some comeback at him, telling him that her stuff was already in the room. Monica would slap money down on the table and dare him to turn it down.**

**Claire reached in her back pocket and pulled out her wallet. "How much?" she asked, and started counting out bills. She had twenties, so it looked like a lot. "Three hundred enough? I can get more if I have to."**

**Michael sat back, surprised, a little frown bracketing his forehead. He reached for his beer and took another sip while he thought about it. "How?" he asked.**

**"What?"**

**"How would you get more?"**

**"Get a job. Sell stuff." Not that she had much to sell, but in an emergency there was always the panicked call to Mom. "I want to stay here, Michael. I really do." She was surprised at the conviction in her voice.**

**"Yeah, I'm under eighteen, but I swear, you won't have any trouble from me. I'll stay out of your way. I go to school, and I study. That's all I do. I'm not a partyer, I'm not a slacker. I'm useful. I'll - I'll help clean and cook."**

**He thought about it, staring at her; he was the kind of person you could actually see thinking. It was a little scary, although he probably didn't mean it to be. There was just something so...adult about him. So sure of himself.**

**"No," he said. "I'm sorry, kid. But it's just too much risk."**

**"Eve's only a little bit older than I am!"**

**"Eve's eighteen. You're what, sixteen?"**

**"Almost seventeen!" If you were a little fluid on the definition of almost. "I really am in college. I'm a freshman - look, here's my student ID..."**

**He ignored it. "Come back in a year. We'll talk about it," he said. "Look, I'm sorry. What about the dorm?"**

**"They'll kill me if I stay there," she said, and looked down at her clasped hands. "They tried to kill me today."**

**"What?"**

**"The other girls. They punched me and shoved me down the stairs."**

**Silence. A really long one. She heard the creak of leather, and then Michael was on one knee next to the chair. Before she could stop him, he was probing the bump on her head, tilting it back so he could get a good, impersonal look at the bruises and cuts. "What else?" he asked.**

**"What?"**

**"Besides what I can see? You're not going to drop dead on me, are you?"**

"wow sensitive" said Shane.

**Wow, sensitive. "I'm okay. I saw the doctor and everything. It's just - bruises. And a strained ankle. But they pushed me down the stairs, and they meant it, and she told me - " Suddenly, Eve's words about vampires came back to her and made her trip over her tongue. "The girl in charge, she told me that tonight, I'd get what was coming to me. I can't go back to the dorm, Michael. If you send me out that door, they'll kill me, because I don't have any friends and I don't have anyplace to go!"**

**He stayed there for a few more seconds, looking her right in the eyes, and then retreated to the couch.**

**He unlatched the guitar case again and cradled the instrument; she thought that was his comfort zone, right there, with the guitar in his arms. "These girls. Do they go out in daylight?"**

**She blinked. "You mean, outside? Sure. They go to classes. Well, sometimes."**

**"Do they wear bracelets?"**

**She blinked. "You mean, like - " Eve had left hers behind on the table, so she picked up the leather band with its red symbol. "Like this? I never noticed. They wear a lot of stuff." She thought hard, and maybe she did remember something after all. The bracelets didn't look like this, though. They were gold, and Monica and the Monickettes all had them on their right wrists. She'd never paid much attention.**

**"Maybe."**

**"Bracelets with white symbols?" Michael made the question casual; in fact, he bent his head and concentrated on tuning his guitar, not that it needed it. Every note sounded perfect as it whispered out of the strings. "Do you remember?"**

**"No." She felt a pure burst of something that wasn't quite panic, wasn't quite excitement. "Does that mean they have Protection?"**

**He hesitated for about a second, just long enough for her to know he was surprised. "You mean condoms?" he asked. "Doesn't everybody?"**

**"You know what I mean." Her cheeks were burning. She hoped it wasn't as obvious as it felt.**

**"Don't think I do."**

**"Eve said - "**

**He looked up sharply, and those blue eyes were suddenly angry. "Eve needs to keep her mouth shut. ****She's in enough danger as it is, trolling around out there in Goth gear. They already think she's mocking them. If they hear she's talking..."**

**"They, who?" Claire asked. It was his turn to look away.**

**"People," he said flatly. "Look, I don't want your blood on my hands. You can stay for a couple of days. ****But only until you find a place, right? And make it fast - I'm not running a halfway house for battered girls. I've got enough to worry about trying to keep Eve and Shane out of trouble."**

**For a guy who made such beautiful music, he was bitter, and a little scary. Claire put the money hesitantly on the table in front of him. He stared at it, jaw tense.**

**"The rent's a hundred a month," he said. "You buy groceries once a month, too. First month in advance.**

**But you're not staying past that, so keep the rest."**

**She swallowed and picked up two hundred of the three hundred she'd counted out. "Thanks," she said.**

**"Don't thank me," he said. "Just don't get us into trouble. I mean it."**

**She got up, went into the kitchen, and spooned chili into two bowls, added the bowls to trays along with spoons and Cokes, and brought it all back to set it on the coffee table. Michael stared at it, then her. She sat down on the floor - painfully - and began eating. After a pause, Michael took his bowl and tasted it.**

**"Shane made it," Claire said. "It's pretty good."**

**"Yeah. Chili and spaghetti, that's pretty much all Shane can cook. You know how to make anything?"**

**"Sure."**

**"Like?"**

**"Lasagna," she said. "And, um, sort of a hamburger hash thing, with noodles. And tacos."**

**Michael looked thoughtful. "Could you make tacos tomorrow?"**

**"Sure," she said. "I have classes from eleven to five, but I'll stop and pick up the stuff."**

**He nodded, eating steadily, glancing up at her once in a while. "I'm sorry," he finally said."**

"i really was" said Michael.

**"About what?"**

**"Being an asshole. Look, it's just that I can't - I have to be careful. Really careful."**

**"You weren't being an asshole," she said. "You're trying to protect yourself and your friends. That's okay. That's what you're supposed to do."**

**Michael smiled, and it transformed his face, made it suddenly angelic and wonderful. Dude, she thought in amazement. He's totally gorgeous. No wonder he'd been worried about her being underage. A smile like that, he'd be peeling girls off of him right and left.**

"hey! stop having thoughts about my boyfriend!" said Eve.

**"If you're in this house, you're my friend," he said. "What's your name, by the way?"**

**"Claire. Claire Danvers."**

**"Welcome to the Glass House, Claire Danvers."**

**"But only temporarily."**

**"Yeah, temporarily."**

"like that worked out" said Oliver.

**They shared a smile, uneasily, and Michael cleared up the plates this time, and Claire went back up to her room, to spread out her books on the built-in desk and start the day's studying.**

**She listened to him playing downstairs, the soft and heartfelt accompaniment to the night, as she fell into the world she loved.**

"end of the chapter" said Eve." who wants to read next?"

"i will" said Shane.

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**yay another chapter done!**

**please review! 3 3 3**


	5. Chapter 4

**OMG so sorry for the late chapter!**

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**Morning dawned bright and early, and Claire woke up to the smell of frying bacon. She stumbled to the bathroom down the hall, yawning, barely aware that she was scantily dressed in her extra-long T-shirt until she remembered, Oh my God, boys live here, too. Luckily, nobody saw, and the bathroom was free. Somebody had already been in it this morning; the mirrors were still frosted with steam, and the big black-and-white room glistened with drops of water. It smelled clean, though. And kind of fruity.**

"Eve" said a lot of people.

**The fruity smell was the shampoo, she found, as she lathered and rinsed. When she wiped the mirror down and stared at herself, she saw the patterns of bruises up and down both sides of her pale skin. I could have died. She'd been lucky.**

"Very lucky!" said Shane.

**She tossed the T-shirt back on, then dashed back to her room to dig out the panties she'd rescued yesterday from the washer. They were still damp, but she put them on anyway, then dragged on blue jeans.**

"I don't think we need to know how you got dressed" said Oliver.

**On impulse, she opened the closet, and found some old stuff pushed to the back. T-shirts, mostly, from bands she'd never heard of, and a few she remembered as ancient. A couple of sweaters, too. She stripped off her bloodstained shirt and dragged on a faded black one, and, after thinking about it, left her shoes on the floor.**

**Downstairs, Eve and Shane were arguing in the kitchen about the right way to make scrambled eggs. Eve said they needed milk. Shane said milk was for pussies. Claire padded silently past them, over to the refrigerator, and pulled out a carton of orange juice. She splashed some into a glass, then silently held the carton up for the other two. Eve took it and poured herself a glass, then handed it to Shane.**

**"So," Shane asked, "Michael didn't pitch you out."**

**"No."**

**Shane nodded slowly. He was even bigger and taller than she remembered, and his skin was a golden brown color, like he'd spent a lot of time in the sun over the summer. His hair had that bronzy sheen, too.**

**Sun-bleached where Michael was naturally blond. Okay, truthfully? They're both hotties. She wished she hadn't really thought that, but at least she hadn't said it out loud.**

"You have know" said Myrnin.

"Shut up!" shouted Claire.

**"Something you should know about Michael," he said. "He doesn't like taking chances. I wasn't sure he'd let you stay. If he did, then he got a good vibe off of you. Don't disrespect that, because if you do - I won't be happy, either. Got it?"**

**Eve was silently watching the two of them, which Claire figured was a new experience for Eve, at least the not-talking part. "He's your friend, right?"**

**"He saved my life," Shane said. "I'd die for him, but it'd be a dumbass thing to do to thank him for it. So yeah. He's been my friend all my life, and he's more like a brother. So don't get him in trouble."**

**"I won't," she said. "No milk in the eggs."**

**"See?" Shane turned back to the counter and started cracking eggs into a bowl. "Told ya."**

**"Traitor," Eve sighed, and poked at the frying bacon with a fork. "Fine. So. How was Linda last night?"**

**"Laura."**

**"Whatever. Not like I have to remember a name for more than one date, anyway."**

**"She bowled a one fifty."**

**"God, you're such a disappointment. Share, already!"**

**Shane smiled tightly down at the eggs. "Hey, not in front of the kid. You got the note."**

**"Kid?" That hurt. Claire dropped plates on the counter with a little too much force. "Note?"**

**Shane handed over a folded piece of paper. It was short and sweet, and signed "Michael"...and it told them that Claire was underage, and that the two of them were supposed to look out for her while she was in the house.**

"It was sweet" said Claire and Michael blushed as much as a vampire could.

**Cute. Claire didn't know whether to be pissed or flattered. On reflection...pissed. "I'm not a kid!" she told Shane hotly. "I'm only, like, a year younger than Eve!"**

**"And girls are much more mature." Eve nodded wisely. "So you're about ten years older than Shane, then."**

**"Seriously," Claire insisted. "I'm not a kid!"**

**"Whatever you say, kid," Shane said blandly. "Cheer up. Just means you don't have to put up with me telling you how much sex I didn't get."**

**"I'm telling Michael," Eve warned.**

**"About how much sex I didn't get? Go ahead."**

**"No bacon for you."**

**"Then no eggs for you. Either of you."**

**Eve glowered at him. "Prisoner exchange?"**

**They glared at each other, then swapped pans and started scooping.**

**Claire was just about to join in when the front doorbell rang, a lilting silvery sound. It wasn't a scary sound, but Eve and Shane froze and looked at each other, and that was scary, somehow. Shane put his plate down on the granite countertop, licked bacon grease from his fingers, and said, "Get her out of sight."**

**Eve nodded. She dropped her own plate onto the counter, grabbed Claire's wrist, and hustled her to the pantry - a door half hidden in the shadow of the awkwardly placed refrigerator. It was big, dark, and dusty, shelves crowded with old cans of yams and asparagus and glass jars of ancient jellies. There was a light with a string pull above, but Eve didn't turn it on. She reached behind a row of murky-looking cans of fruit and hit some kind of a switch. There was a grating rumble, then a click, and part of the back wall swung open.**

**Eve pushed it back, reached in, and grabbed a flashlight that she handed to Claire. "Inside," she said.**

**"I'm going to turn the light on out here, but try to keep that flashlight off if you hear voices. It could show through the cracks." Claire nodded, a little dazed, and crouched down to crawl through the small opening into...a big empty room, stone floored, no windows. A few spiderwebs in the corners, and loads of dust, but otherwise it didn't look too bad.**

**Until Eve shut the door, and then the darkness slammed down, and Claire hastily flicked on the flashlight, moved to the nearest corner, and knelt down there, breathing fast and hard.**

"God i hate that room" said Claire.

**Just one minute ago, they'd been laughing about bacon and eggs, and all of a sudden...what the hell had just happened? And why was there a secret compartment in this house? One with - so far as she could tell - no other entrances or exits?**

"That's the point of it" said Eve.

**She heard distant voices, and hastily thumbed off the flashlight. That was bad. She'd never really been afraid of the dark, but dark wasn't really dark most of the time... There were stars, moonlight, distant streetlights.**

**This was pitch-black, take-no-prisoners dark, and she had the ice-cold thought that anything could be right next to her, reaching out for her, and she'd never see it coming.**

"yeah i mean you don't know if there is a vampire living down there and it could come and rip your throat out and..." said Myrnin in a spooky voice.

"Shut up Myrnin!" shouted Amelie.

**Claire bit down hard on her lip, gripped the flashlight tightly, and slid down the wall until her searching hand found the rough wood of the door she'd come in through. A little light was leaking in around it, barely a glimmer but enough to ease the pounding in her chest.**

**Voices. Shane's, and someone else's. A man's voice, deeper than Shane's. "...standard inventory."**

**"Sir, there's nobody living here but what's on the roster. Just the three of us." Shane sounded subdued and respectful, which didn't seem like him. Not that she knew him that well, but he was kind of a smart-ass.**

**"Which one are you?" the voice asked.**

**"Shane Collins, sir."**

**"Get your third in here," the voice said.**

**"Well, I would, but - Michael's not here. He's out until tonight. You want to check back then?..."**

**"Never mind." Claire, straining her ears, heard paper rustling. "You're Eve Rosser?"**

**"Yes, sir." Eve sounded respectful, but brisk.**

**"Moved out of your parents' house - eight months ago?"**

**"Yes, sir."**

**"Employed?"**

**"At Common Grounds, you know, the coffee - "**

**The man, whoever he was, interrupted her. "You. Collins. Any employment?" Clearly talking to Shane.**

**"I'm between jobs, sir. You know how it is."**

**"Keep looking. We don't like slackers in Morganville. Everybody contributes."**

**"Yes, sir. I'll keep it in mind, sir."**

**A brief pause. Maybe there had been a little bit more smart-ass in Shane's response than there should have been. Claire deliberately slowed her breathing, trying to hear more.**

**"You left town for a couple of years, boy. What brings you back?"**

**"Homesick, sir." Yes, it was definitely back in his voice, and even Claire knew that was a bad thing.**

**"Missed all my old friends."**

**She heard Eve clear her throat. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I've got work in a half hour...?"**

**More paper shuffling. "One other thing. Here's a picture of a girl that disappeared from her dorm last night. You haven't seen her?"**

**They both chorused a "No."**

**He must not have believed them, because he didn't sound convinced. "What's in here?" He didn't wait to hear a response; he just opened the outer door of the pantry. Claire flinched and held her breath. "You always leave the light on?"**

**"I was getting some jam when you rang, sir. I probably forgot to turn it off," Eve said. She sounded nervous. "Sorry."**

**Click. The light in the pantry went out, taking what little there was seeping through the door with it. Claire barely controlled a gasp. Don't move. Don't move. She just knew he - whoever he was - was standing there in the dark, looking and listening.**

"Like a vampire" said Myrnin.

"Shut up" everyone said to Myrnin.

**And then, finally, she heard him say, "You ring the station if you see that girl. She's got herself in some trouble. We're supposed to help her get straightened out."**

**"Yes, sir," Eve said, and the pantry door shut. The conversation moved away, became softer and softer until it faded into nothing.**

**Claire switched on the flashlight, covered it with her hand, and pointed it at the corner - only a little light escaped, just enough to convince her that no evil zombie was sneaking up on her in the dark. And then she waited. It seemed like a long time before there were two sharp raps on the door, and it swung open in a blaze of electric light. Eve's stark white makeup and black eyeliner looked even scarier than before.**

**"It's okay," she said, and helped Claire out of the hidden room. "He's gone."**

**"Oh, the hell it's okay," Shane said behind her. He had his arms folded across his chest, and rocked back and forth, frowning. "Those assholes have her picture. They're looking for her. What'd you do, Claire? Knife the mayor or something?"**

**"Nothing!" she blurted. "I - I don't know why - maybe it's that they're just worried because I didn't show up last night?"**

**"Worried?" Shane laughed bitterly. "Yeah, that's it. They're worried about you. Right. I'm going to have to talk this over with Michael. If they're going to turn the town upside down looking for you, either you're too hot to stay in Morganville, or we need to get you under some kind of Protection, fast."**

**He said it the same way Eve had. "But - maybe the police - ?"**

**"That was the police," Eve said. "Told you. They run the town. These guys work for the vamps - they're not vamps themselves, but they're scary enough without the fangs. Look, can you call your parents? Get them to pull you out of school and take you home or something?"**

**Sure. That would be the easiest thing in the world, only it would mean failure, and they'd never believe a word of this stuff, ever, and if she tried to explain it, she'd end up drugged and in therapy for the rest of her life. And any chance - any chance - of making it to Yale or MIT or Caltech would be blown completely. She supposed it was kind of dumb to be thinking of it that way, but those things were real to her.**

**Vampires? Not so much.**

"They are now" said Claire.

**"But - I haven't done anything!" she said, and looked from Shane to Eve, and back again. "How can they be after me if I didn't do anything?"**

**"Life ain't fair," Shane said, with all the certainty of two more years of experience at it. "You must have pissed off the wrong people, is all I know. What's the girl's name? The one who smacked you around?"**

**"M-Monica."**

**They both stared at her.**

**"Oh, crap," Eve said, horrified. "Monica Morrell?"**

**Shane's face went...blank. Completely blank, except for his eyes, and there was something pretty scary going on behind them. "Monica," he repeated. "How come nobody told me?"**

**Eve was watching him, biting her lip. "Sorry, Shane. We would have - I swear, I thought she left town. ****Went off to college somewhere else."**

**Shane shook it off, whatever it was, and shrugged, trying to look like he didn't care. It was obvious to Claire that he did, though. "She probably couldn't stand not being the queen bee, and had to come begging back to Daddy to buy her some grades."**

**"Shane - "**

**"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."**

**"She probably doesn't even remember you," Eve blurted, and then looked as if she wished she hadn't said it. "I - that's not what I meant. I'm sorry."**

**He laughed, and it sounded wrong and a little bit shaky. There was a short, odd silence, and then Eve changed the subject by resolutely picking up her plate of cooling bacon and eggs.**

**And then went still and round-eyed. "Oh, shit," she said, and then covered her mouth.**

**"What?"**

**She pointed at the plates on the counter. Shane's, hers...and Claire's. "Three plates. He knew something was up. We told him Michael wasn't around. No wonder he kept poking."**

**Shane said nothing, but Claire could see he was - if possible - even more upset. He didn't show it much, but he picked up his plate and walked away, out into the living room, then up the steps two at a time.**

**His upstairs door slammed.**

"God i bet the whole of Morganville can hear you slam your door" said Michael.

**Eve bit her lip, watching after him.**

**"So...Shane and Monica...?" Claire guessed.**

**Eve kept staring at the doorway. "Not like you're thinking," she said. "He wouldn't touch that skank in a million years. But they were in high school together, and Shane - got on her bad side. Just like you did."**

**Claire's appetite for breakfast was suddenly gone. "What happened?"**

**"He stood up to her, and his house burned. He nearly died," she said. "His - his sister wasn't so lucky. ****Michael got him out of town, off on his own, before he did something crazy. He's been gone a couple of years. Just came back right before I moved in here." Eve forced a bright smile. "Let's eat, yeah? I'm starving."**

**They sat out in the living room, chatting about nothing, not talking about the thing that was most important: what to do.**

**Because, Claire sensed, neither one of them had a clue.**

" i will be upstairs" said Shane as he ran the stairs two at a time.

"I think we should have a break" said Eve as Claire ran up the stairs.

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**please review 3 3 3**


	6. break 1

**OMG i am sooooooooooo sorry for not updating !**

**well please forgive me and here is the chapter!**

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Claire ran up the stairs and knocked on Shane's door. She waited ten seconds but no answer came. "Shane? you in here?" she asked but got no reply.

Claire opened his door slowly and found him face down on his bed. No words were spoken when Claire laid down next to Shane and hugged him. No words were needed at that moment in time.

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Down stairs was silent as people were thinking of what they had heard so far. Eve was thinking of what Shane must be going through and how much of a bitch Monica is. Michael was thinking of how nasty he was to Claire when she first came. Amelie was thinking of how she could punish the Morrell girl for hurting Claire. Oliver was thinking about how stupid it was to be here. Myrnin was thinking of jam doughnuts. Hannah was thinking of bad Claire must of felt. Richard was thinking of what to say to his sister and Monica was thinking of how fun it was to torment Claire.

Ten minuets later Shane and Claire came down stairs and sat on the sofa. "so who is reading next?" asked Shane.

" I will" said Amelie.

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**well there you go. i know very short but i am sorry!**

**please follow me on Twitter, Wattpad and Quotev**

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	7. Chapter 5

**omg guys help make MORGANVILLE VAMPIRES a web series!**

**here is the link: projects/2059...  
**

**this is not a scam or anything! this is real!**

**after that amazing news... on with the chapter...**

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**Claire watched the clock - some old-style wall clock, with hands - crawl slowly up to, and past, eleven o'clock. Professor Hamms is starting the lecture, she thought, and felt a nauseating twist in her stomach.**

"oh great! here she goes again about missing school!" said Shane

**This was the second day in a row she'd missed school. In her whole life she'd never missed two days of school back-to-back. Sure, she'd read the textbook already - twice - but lectures were important. That was how you found out the good stuff, especially in classes like physics, where they did practical demonstrations. Lectures were the fun part.**

"no there not!" shouted alot of people.

**It was Thursday. That meant she had a lab class later, too. You couldn't make up lab class, no matter how good your excuse.**

"its true" said Claire.

**She sighed, forced herself to look away from the time, and opened up her Calc II book - she'd tested out of Calc I, could have tested out of Calc II, but she'd thought maybe she might learn something new about solving linear inequalities, which had always been a problem for her.**

"really Claire?" asked Myrnin.

"yep!" said Claire "still are"

"well we will be going over that later" said Myrnin.

**"What the hell are you doing?" Shane. He was on the stairs, staring at her. She hadn't heard him coming, but that was probably because he was barefoot. His hair was a mess, too. Maybe he'd been asleep.**

**"Studying," she said.**

**"Huh," he said, like he'd never actually seen it done before. "Interesting." He vaulted over the railing three steps from the bottom and flopped down on the leather couch next to her, flicking the TV on with the remote next to him, then changing inputs. "This going to bother you?"**

**"No," she said politely. It was a lie, but she wasn't quite ready to be, you know, blunt. It was her first day.**

"you should of said" said Shane.

**"Great. Want to take a break?"**

**"A break?"**

**"That's when you stop studying" - he tilted his head to the side to look at the book - "okay, whatever the hell that is, and actually do something fun. It's a custom where I come from." He dumped something in the center of her open book with a plastic thump. She flinched and picked up the wireless game controller with two fingers. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me you've never played a video game."**

**Truthfully, she had. Once. She hadn't liked it very much. He must have read that in her expression, because he shook his head. "This is just sad. Now you have to take a break. Okay, you've got a choice: horror, action, driving, or war."**

**She blurted, "Those are my choices?"**

**He looked offended. "What, you want girl games? Not in my house. Never mind, I'll pick for you. Here. ****First-person shooter." He yanked a box from a stack next to the couch and loaded a disc into the machine. "Easy. All you have to do is pull the trigger. Trust me. Nothing like a little virtual violence to make you feel better."**

" easy but good" said Michael.

" will you all stop interrupting me!" shouted Amelie.

**"You're crazy."**

**"Hey, prove me wrong. Unless you think you can't." He didn't look at her as he said it, but she felt it sting, anyway. "Maybe you're just not up to it."**

**She shut her Calc II book, picked up the controller, and watched the colorful graphics load up on the screen. "Show me what to do."**

**He smiled slowly. "Point. Shoot. Try not to get in my way."**

**He was right. She'd always thought it was kind of creepy, hanging out in front of a TV and killing virtual monsters, but damn if it wasn't...fun. Before too long, she was flinching when things lunged out of the corners of the screen, and whooping just like Shane when some monster got put down for the count.**

**When it ended for her, and the screen suddenly showed a snarling zombie face and splashes of red, she felt it like an ice cube down her back.**

**"Oops," Shane said, and kept on firing. "Sorry. Some days you're the zombie, some days you're the meal. Good try, kiddo."**

**She put the controller on the couch cushions, and watched him play for a while. "Shane?" she finally asked.**

**"Hang on - damn, that was close. What?"**

**"How did you get on Monica's - "**

**"Shit list?" he supplied, and drilled a few dozen bullets into a lunging zombie in a prom dress. "You don't have to do much, just not crawl on your belly every time she walks in a room." Which, she noticed, wasn't exactly an answer. Exactly. "What'd you do?"**

**"I, uh...I made her look stupid."**

**He hit some control and froze the game in mid-scream, and turned to look at her. "You what?"**

**"Well, she said this thing about World War II being about the Chinese, and - "**

"World War II was not Chinese!" shouted Myrnin.

lets just say there was a lot of shouting, mostly from Amelie.

"right carrying on" said Amelie.

**Shane laughed. He had a good laugh, loud and full of raw energy, and she smiled nervously in return.**

**"You're feistier than you look, C. Good one." He held up a hand. She awkwardly smacked it. "Oh, man, that's sadder than the video game thing. Again."**

**Five hand smacks later, she had mastered the high five to his satisfaction, and he unfroze the video game.**

**"Shane?" she asked.**

**This time, he sighed. "Yeah?"**

**"Sorry, but - about your sister - "**

**Silence. He didn't look at her, didn't give any indication he'd heard a word. He just kept on killing things.**

everyone looked at Shane with sadness in there eyes. yes even Oliver and Amelie.

**He was good at it.**

**Claire's nerve failed. She went back to her textbook. It didn't seem quite as exciting, somehow. After half an hour, she bagged it, stood, stretched, and asked, "When does Michael get up?"**

**"When he wants to." Shane shrugged. "Why?" He made a face and narrowly avoided getting his arm clawed off on-screen.**

**"I - I figured I might go back to the dorm and get my things."**

**He hit a button, and the screen paused in midshot again. "What?" He gave her his full attention, which made her heart stutter, then pound harder. Guys like Shane did not give mousy little bookworms like her their full attention. Not like that.**

"your not a mousy bookworm" shouted a lot of people.

**"My stuff. From my dorm room."**

**"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. Did you miss the part where the cops are looking for you?"**

**"Well, if I check in," she said reasonably, "I won't be missing anymore. I can say I slept over somewhere. Then they'll stop looking for me."**

**"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."**

**"No, it isn't. If they think I'm back in the dorm, they'll leave me to Monica, right? It could be a few days before she figures out I'm not coming back. She could forget about me by then."**

**"Claire - " He frowned at her for a second or two, then shook his head. "No way are you going over there by yourself."**

**"But - they don't know where I am. If you go with me, they'll know."**

**"And if you don't come back from the dorm, I'm the one who has to explain to Michael how I let you go off and get yourself killed like a dumbass. First rule of horror movies, C. - never split up."**

"no thats the first rule of Morganville" said Hannah.

**"I can't just hide here. I have classes!"**

**"Drop 'em."**

**"No way!" The whole thought horrified her. Nearly as much as failing them**

"even more than vampires?" asked Myrnin

"yes, even more than vampire" answered Claire.

**"Claire! Maybe you're not getting this, but you're in trouble! Monica wasn't kidding when she pushed you down the stairs. That was light exercise for her. Next time, she might actually get mad."**

**She stood up and hoisted her backpack. "I'm going."**

**"Then you're stupid. Can't save an idiot," Shane said flatly, and turned back to his game. He didn't look at her again as he started working the controls, firing with a vengeance. "Don't tell them where you were last night. We don't need the hassle."**

**Claire set her jaw angrily, chewed up some words, and swallowed them. Then she went into the kitchen to grab some trash bags. As she was stuffing them into her backpack, she heard the front door open and close.**

**"A plague upon all our houses!" Eve yelled, and Claire heard the silver jingle of her keys hitting the hall table. "Anybody alive in here?"**

**"Yes!" Shane snapped. He sounded as mad as Claire felt.**

**"Damn," Eve replied cheerfully. "I was so hoping."**

**Claire came out of the kitchen and met Eve on her way up the hall. She was in plaid today - a red and black tartan skirt, black fishnet hose, clunky patent leather shoes with skulls on the toes, a white men's shirt, suspenders. And a floor-length black leather coat. Her hair was up in two pigtails, fastened with skull-themed bands. She smelled like...coffee. Fresh ground. There were some brown splatters on her shirtfront.**

"yum. coffee" said Eve dreamily.

**"Oh, hey, Claire," she said, and blinked. "Where are you going?"**

**"Funeral," Shane said. On-screen, a zombie shrieked and died gruesomely.**

**"Yeah? Cool! Whose?"**

"only you would find that cool" said Michael.

"i know" said Eve.

**"Hers." Shane said.**

**Eve's eyes widened. "Claire - you're going back?"**

**"Just for some of my stuff. I figure if I show up every couple of days, let people see me, they'll think I still live there..."**

**"Whoa, whoa, whoa, bad idea. Bad. No cookie. You can't go back. Not by yourself."**

"oh cookie?" asked Myrnin.

"in the cookie tin" said Eve.

**"Why not?"**

**"They're looking for you!"**

**Shane put the game on pause again. "You think I didn't already tell her that? She's not listening."**

**"And you were going to let her just go?"**

**"I'm not her mom."**

**"How about just her friend?"**

**He gave her a look that pretty clearly said, Shut up. Eve glared back, then looked at Claire. "Seriously. ****You can't just - it's dangerous. You have no idea. If Monica's really gone to her Patron and tagged you, you can't just, you know, wander around."**

**"I'm not wandering," Claire pointed out. "I'm going to my dorm, picking up some clothes, going to class, and coming home."**

**"Going to class?" Eve made helpless little flapping motions with her black-fingernailed hands. "No no no! ****No class, are you kidding?"**

**Shane raised his arm. "Hello? Pointed it out already."**

**"Whatever," Claire said, and stepped around Eve to walk down the hall to the front door. She heard Shane and Eve whispering fiercely behind her, but didn't wait.**

**If she waited, she was going to lose her nerve.**

**It was only a little after noon. Plenty of time to get to school, do the rest of her classes, stuff some clothes in a garbage bag, say enough hellos to make everything okay, and get home before dark. And it was after dark that was dangerous, right? If they were serious about the vampire thing.**

**Which she was starting to believe, just a teeny little bit.**

" lol! just a tiny bit" laughed Eve.

**She opened the front door, stepped out, closed it, and walked out onto the porch. The air smelled sharp and crisp with heat. Eve must have been cooking in that coat; there were ripples of hot air rising up from the concrete sidewalk, and the sun was a pale white dot in a washed-denim sky.**

**She was halfway to the sidewalk, where Eve's big car lurked, when the door slammed behind her.**

**"Wait!" Eve blurted, and came hurrying after with the leather coat flapping in the hot wind. "I can't let you do this."**

"god Eve you looked like a human bat" laughed Claire.

**Claire kept walking. The sun burned on the sore spot on her head, and on her bruises. Her ankle was still sore, but not enough to bother her that much. She'd just have to be careful.**

**Eve darted around her to face her, then danced backward when Claire kept walking. "Seriously. This is dumb, Claire, and you don't strike me as somebody with a death wish. I mean, I have a death wish - it takes one to know one - okay, stop! Just stop!" She put out a hand, palm out, and Claire stopped short just a few inches away. "You're going. I get that. At least let me drive you. You shouldn't be walking. ****This way I can call Shane if - if anything happens. And at least you'll have somebody standing by."**

**"I don't want to get you guys into any trouble." Michael had been pretty specific about that.**

**"That's why Shane's not coming. He's - well, he attracts trouble like TV screens attract dust. Besides, it's better not to put him anywhere near Monica. Bad things happen." Eve unlocked the car doors. "You have to call shotgun."**

**"What?"**

**"You have to call shotgun to get the passenger seat."**

**"But nobody else is - "**

**"I'm just telling you, get used to the idea, because if Shane was here? He'd already have it and you'd be in the back."**

**"Um..." Claire felt stupid even trying to say it. "Shotgun?"**

**"Keep practicing. Got to be fast on the trigger around here."**

"literally" said Richard.

**The car had slick vinyl seats, cracked and peeling, and aftermarket seat belts that didn't feel any too safe.**

**Claire tried not to slide around on the upholstery too much as the big car jolted down the narrow, bumpy road. The shops looked as dim and uninviting as Claire remembered, and the pedestrians just as hunched in on themselves.**

**"Eve?" she asked. "Why do people stay here? Why don't they leave? If, you know...vampires."**

**"Good question," Eve said. "People are funny that way. Adults, anyway. Kids pick up and leave all the time, but adults get all bogged down. Houses. Cars. Jobs. Kids. Once you have stuff, it's easy enough for the vamps to keep you on a leash. It takes a lot to make people just leave everything behind and run.**

**Especially when they know they might not live long if they do. Oh crap, get down!"**

"what is happening?" asked Myrnin.

"shut up fool and you will find out!" hissed Oliver.

**Claire unhooked her seat belt and slithered down into the dark space under the dash. She didn't hesitate, because Eve hadn't been kidding - that had been pure panic in her voice. "What is it?" She barely dared to whisper.**

**"Cop car," Eve said, and didn't move her lips. "Coming right toward us. Stay down."**

**She did. Eve nervously tapped fingernails on the hard plastic steering wheel, and then let out a sigh.**

**"Okay, he went past. Just stay down, though. He might come back."**

**Claire did, bracing herself against the bumps in the road as Eve turned toward the campus. Another minute or two passed before Eve gave her the all clear, and she flopped back into the seat and strapped in.**

**"That was close," Eve said.**

**"What if they'd seen me?"**

**"Well, for starters, they'd have hauled me in to the station for interfering, confiscated my car..." Eve patted the steering wheel apologetically. "And you'd have just...disappeared."**

**"But - "**

**"Trust me. They're not exactly amateurs around here at making that happen. So let's just get this done and hope like hell your plan works, okay?"**

**Eve steered slowly through crowds of lunchtime students walking across the streets, hit the turnaround, and followed Claire's pointed directions toward the dorm.**

**Howard Hall didn't look any prettier today than it had yesterday. The parking lot was only half-full, and Eve cruised the big Caddy into a parking space near the back. She clicked off the ignition and squinted at the sunlight glaring off the hood. "Right," she said. "You go in, get your stuff, be back here in fifteen minutes, or I start launching Operation Get Claire."**

**Claire nodded. She wasn't feeling so good about this idea, now that she was staring at the door's entrance.**

**"Here." Eve was holding something out. A cell phone, thin and sleek. "Shane's on speed dial - just hit star two. And remember, fifteen minutes, and then I freak out and start acting like your mom. Okay?"**

**Claire took the phone and slipped it in her pocket. "Be right back."**

**She hoped she didn't sound scared. Not too scared, anyway. There was something about having friends - even brand-new ones - that helped keep the tremors out of her voice, and shakes out of her hands. I'm not alone. I have backup. It was kind of a new sensation. Kind of nice, too.**

**She got out of the car, waved awkwardly to Eve, who waved in reply, and turned to walk back into hell.**

" well that was a nice chapter" said Myrnin.

"who wants to read?" asked Amelie.

"i will" said Monica

* * *

**OMG i am so so so sorry for not updating really i am.**

**any way like i said before help make MORGANVILLE VAMPIRES a web series!**

**here is the link: projects/2059...**

**and please review xxxxxxx**


	8. Chapter 6

**hey guys here is another chapter xxx**

* * *

**The cold air of the lobby felt dry and lifeless, after the heat outside; Claire shivered and blinked fast to adjust her eyes to the relative dimness. A few girls were in the lobby with books propped up on tables; the TV was running, but nobody was watching it.**

"like normal" said Claire.

**Nobody looked at her as she walked by. She went to the glassed-in attendant booth, and the student assistant sitting inside looked up from her magazine, saw her bruises, and made a silent O with her mouth.**

**"Hi," Claire said. Her voice sounded thin and dry, and she had to swallow twice. "I'm Claire, up on four? Um, I had an accident yesterday. But I'm okay. Everything's fine."**

**"You're the - they were looking for you, right?"**

**"Yeah. Just tell everybody I'm okay. I've got to get to class."**

**"But - "**

**"Sorry, I'm late!" Claire hurried to the stairs and went up as fast as her sore ankle would allow. She passed a couple of girls, who gave her wide-eyed looks, but nobody said anything.**

"like normal" said Claire again.

**She didn't see Monica.**

"good" said alot of people.

** Not on the stairs, not at the top. The hallway was empty, and all the doors were shut. Music pounded from three or four different rooms. She hurried down to the end, where her own room was, and started to unlock it.**

**The knob turned limply in her fingers. Great. That, more than any graffiti, said Monica wuz here.**

**Sure enough, the room was a wreck. What wasn't broken was dumped in piles. Books were defaced, which really hurt. **

"are they okay?" asked Myrnin.

"are what okay?" asked Claire.

"the books" said Myrnin as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"yeah the books are fine" answered Claire. Everyone was giving Myrnin looks as if he was insane, which he is.

"okay" said Monica and carried on reading.

**Her meager clothes had been dragged out of the closet and scattered over the floor.**

**Some of the blouses had been ripped, but she seriously didn't care that much; she sorted through, found two or three that were intact, and stuffed them in the garbage bag. One pair of sweatpants was fine, and she added that, too. She had a lucky find of a couple of ratty old pairs of underwear that hadn't been discovered, shoved in the corner of the drawer, and added those to the sack.**

**The rest was another pair of shoes, what books she could salvage, and the little bag of makeup and toiletries she kept on the shelf next to the bed. Her iPod was gone. So were her CDs. No telling if that had been Monica's doing, or the work of some other dorm rat who'd scavenged later.**

"is everyone in the dorms bitches?" asked Shane.

"yep" answered Claire.

**She looked around, swept the worst of the mess into a corner, and grabbed the photo of her mom and dad off of the dresser to take with her.**

**And then she left, not bothering to try to lock the door.**

**Well, she thought shakily. That went okay, after all.**

**She was halfway down the steps when she heard voices on the second-floor landing. " - swear, it's her! ****You should see the black eye. Unbelievable. You really clocked her one."**

**"Where the hell is she?" Monica's voice, hard-edged. "And how come nobody came to get me?"**

**"We - we did!" someone protested. Someone who sounded as scared as Claire suddenly felt. She reached in her pocket, grabbed the phone, and held on to it for security. Star two. Just press star two - Shane's not far away, and Eve's right downstairs... "She was up in her room. Maybe she's still there?"**

**Crap. There was nobody in the dorm she could trust, not now. Nobody who'd hide her, or who'd stand up for her. Claire retreated back up the steps to the third-floor landing and went to the fire stairs, flung open the door, and hurried down the concrete steps as fast as she dared, ducking to avoid the glass window at the second-floor exit. She made it to the lobby exit door sweating and trembling from the effort, with her backpack and the garbage bag dragging painfully on her sore muscles, and risked a quick look out the window to the lobby itself.**

"bad idea" said Hannah.

"OMG! will you all shut up!" screamed Monica.

**Monica-groupie Jennifer was on guard, watching the stairs. She looked tense and focused, and - Claire thought - a little bit scared, too. She kept fooling with the bracelet around her right wrist, turning it over and over. One thing was certain: Jennifer would see her the second she opened the door. And sure, maybe that wouldn't matter; maybe she could get by Jen and out the door and they wouldn't be attacking her in public, would they?**

**Watching Jennifer's face, she wasn't so sure. Not so sure at all.**

**The fire door a couple of floors up boomed open, and Claire flinched and looked for a place to hide. The only possible spot was under the concrete stairs. There was some kind of storage closet crammed under there, but when she tried the knob it was locked, and she didn't have Monica's lock-smashing superpowers.**

**And she didn't have time, anyway. There were footsteps coming down. Either she could hope the person didn't look back in the corner, or she could make a break for the door. Once again, Claire touched the phone in her pocket. One phone call away. It's okay.**

**And once again, she left the phone where it was, took a deep breath, and waited.**

**It wasn't Monica; it was Kim Valdez, a freshman like Claire. A band geek, which put her only a tiny step higher than Claire's status as resident freak of nature. Kim kept to herself, and she didn't seem to be all that afraid of Monica or her girls; Kim didn't seem afraid of much. Not friendly, though. Just...solitary.**

**Kim looked back at her, blinked once or twice, then stopped before putting her hand on the door to exit.**

**"Hey," she said. She pushed back the hood of her knit shirt, revealing short, shiny black hair. "They're looking for you."**

**"Yeah, I know."**

**Kim was holding her instrument case. Claire wasn't exactly clear on which instrument it was, but it was big and bulky in its scuffed black case. Kim set it down. "Monica do that?" She gestured at Claire's bruises. Claire nodded wordlessly. "I always knew she was a bitch. So. You need to get out of here?"**

**Claire nodded again, and swallowed hard. "Will you help me?"**

**"Nope." Kim flashed her a sudden, vivid grin. "Not officially. Wouldn't be too smart."**

**They had it worked out in a matter of frantic seconds: Claire zipped up in the shirt, pulled the hood down around her face, and held the instrument case by the handle.**

**"Higher," Kim advised. "Tilt it so it covers your face. Yeah, like that. Keep your head down."**

**"What about my bags?"**

**"I'll wait a couple of minutes, then come out with 'em. Wait outside. And don't go nowhere with my cello, and I mean it. I'll kick your ass."**

**"I won't," she swore. Kim opened the door for her, and she took a gasping breath and barged out, head down, trying to look like she was late for a rehearsal.**

**As she passed Jennifer, the girl gave her a reflexive glance, then dismissed her to focus back on the stairs.**

**Claire felt a hot rush of adrenaline that felt like it might set her face on fire, and resisted the urge to run the rest of the way for the door. It seemed to take forever, her crossing the lobby to the glass doors.**

**She was swinging the door open when she heard Monica say, "That freak couldn't get out of here! ****Check the** **basement. **

"NO!" shouted Michael.

"number 1 rule" said Shane.

"never hide in the basement" they said together.

**Maybe she went down the trash chute, like her stupid laundry."**

**"But - " Jen's feeble protest. "I don't want to go down to the - "**

**She would, though. Claire suppressed a wild grin - mostly because it still hurt too much to do that - and made it out of the dorm.**

**The sunlight felt amazing. It felt like...safety.**

**Claire took a deep breath of hot afternoon air, and walked around the corner to wait for Kim. The heat was brutal out against the sunbaked walls - suffocating. She squinted against the sun and saw the distant glitter of Eve's car, parked all the way at the back. Even hotter in there, she guessed, and wondered if Eve had gotten out of that Goth-required leather coat yet.**

"i had" said Eve

**And just as she was thinking that, she saw a shadow fall across hers from behind, and half turned, but it was too late. Something soft and dark muffled her vision and clogged her mouth and nose, and pressure around her head yanked her off-balance. She screamed, or tried to, but somebody punched her in the stomach, which took care of the screaming and most of the breathing, and Claire saw a weak, watery sunshine through the weave of the cloth over her face, and shadows, and then everything got dark. Not that she fainted, or anything like that, although she was wanting to, badly.**

**The hot pressure of the sun went away, and then she was being dragged and carried into someplace dark and quiet.**

**Then down a flight of stairs.**

**When the moving stopped, she heard breathing and whispers, sounds of more than a few people, and then she was shoved backward, hard, and fell off-balance onto a cold concrete floor. The impact stunned her, and by the time she clawed her way out of the bag that had been jammed onto her head - a black backpack, apparently - she found there was a whole circle of girls standing around her.**

**She had no idea where this room was. Some kind of storage room, maybe, in the basement. It was crammed with stuff - suitcases, boxes labeled with names, all kinds of things. Some of the boxes had collapsed and spilled out pale guts of old clothes. It smelled like molding paper, and she sneezed helplessly when her frantic gasps filled her mouth and nose with dust.**

**A couple of girls giggled. Most didn't do anything, and didn't look very happy to be there, either.**

**Resigned, Claire guessed. Glad it wasn't them lying on the floor.**

**Monica stepped out of the corner.**

**"Well," she said, and put her hands on her hips. "Look what the cats dragged in." She flashed Claire a cold toothpaste-ad smile, as if the rest of them weren't even here. "You ran away, little mouse. And just when we were starting to have fun."**

**Claire faked more sneezing, lots of it, and Monica backed away in distaste. Faking sneezing, Claire discovered, wasn't as easy as she'd thought. It hurt. But it provided time and cover for her to pull the phone out of her pocket, cover it with her body, and frantically punch *2.**

**She pressed SEND and shoved it between two boxes, hoping the blue glow of the buttons wouldn't attract Monica's attention. Hoping Shane wouldn't be iPoding or Xboxing and ignoring the phone.**

**Hoping...**

**Just hoping.**

**"Oh, for God's sake. Get her up!" Monica ordered. Her Monickettes sprang forward, Jen taking one of Claire's arms, Gina the other. They hauled her up to her feet and held her there.**

**Monica pulled the hood back from Claire's bruised face and smiled again, taking in the damage. "Damn, freak, you look like hell. Does it hurt?"**

**"What did I ever do to you?" Claire blurted. She was scared, but she was angry, too. Furious. There were seven girls standing around doing nothing because they were scared, and of what? Monica? What the hell gave the Monicas the right to run the world?**

**"You know exactly what you did. You tried to make me look stupid," Monica said.**

**"Tried?" Claire shot back, which was dumb, but she couldn't stop the impulse. It got her hit in the face.**

**Hard. Right on top of the first bruise, which took away her breath in slow throbs of white-hot agony.**

**Everything felt funny, rattled by the impact of Monica's jab. Claire felt pressure on her arms, and realized that the Monickettes were holding her up. She put some stiffness back into her legs, opened her eyes, and glared at Monica.**

**"How come you live in Howard?" she asked.**

**Monica, inspecting her knuckles for signs of bruising, looked up in honest surprise.**

**"What?"**

**"Your family's rich, right? You could be living in an apartment. Or in a sorority house. How come you live in Howard Hall with the rest of us freaks?" She caught her breath at the sudden cold blaze in Monica's eyes. "Unless you're a freak, too. A freak who gets off on hurting somebody weaker than you. ****A freak your family's ashamed of. Somebody they hide here where they don't have to look at you."**

**"Shut up," Jennifer hissed, low in her ear. "Don't be stupid! She'll kill you - don't you get it?"**

**She jerked her head away. "I heard you went away to college," Claire continued. Her stomach was rolling, she felt like she was going to puke and die, but all she had to do was stall for time. Shane would come. Eve would come. Maybe Michael. She could imagine Michael standing in the doorway, with those ice-cold eyes and that angel's face, staring holes through Monica. Yeah, that would rock. Monica wouldn't look so big then. "What's the matter? Couldn't you cut it? I'm not surprised - anybody who thinks World War Two was in China isn't exactly going to impress - "**

**She saw the punch coming this time, and ducked as best she could. Monica's fist smashed into her forehead, which hurt, but it must have hurt Monica a whole lot more, because she let out a shrill little scream and backed off, clutching her right hand in her left. That made the horrible throbbing in Claire's head almost okay.**

**"Careful," Claire gasped, nearly giggling. The scab on her lip had broken open, and she licked blood from her lips. "Don't break a nail! I'm not worth it, remember?"**

**"Got that right!" Monica snarled. "Let that bitch go. What are you waiting for? Go on, do it! Do you think that wimp's going to hurt me?"**

**The Monickettes looked at each other, clearly wondering if their queen bee had lost her mind, then let go of Claire's arms and stepped back. Jennifer bumped into the towering column of boxes, spilling an avalanche of dust and old papers, but when Claire looked at her, Jennifer was staring at a spot between the boxes.**

**The spot where Claire had hidden the phone. Jen had to have seen it, and Claire gasped out loud, suddenly a whole lot more afraid than she'd thought she was.**

**"What the hell are you looking at?" Monica snarled at Jen, and Jen very deliberately turned her back on the incriminating phone, folded her arms, and stood there blocking it from view. Not looking at Claire at all. Wow. That's... what? Not lucky, exactly. Jennifer had shown some cracks already. And maybe she wasn't a complete convert to the First Church of Monica.**

**Maybe Monica had just pissed her off one too many times. Not that she would be stepping in on Claire's side anytime soon.**

**Claire wiped the blood from her lip and looked at the other girls. The ones who were standing, uneasy and indecisive. Monica had been challenged and, so far, hadn't exactly delivered the smackdown everybody - Claire included - had expected. Kind of weird, really. Unless Claire really struck some nerve besides the ones running through Monica's knuckles.**

**Monica was rubbing her hand, looking at Claire as if she'd never seen her before. Assessing her. She said, "Nobody's told you the facts of life, Claire. The fact is, if you suddenly just up and disappear...?"**

**She jerked her pretty, pointed chin at the dusty towers of boxes. "Nobody but the janitor's ever going to know or care. You think Mommy and Daddy are going to get all upset? Maybe they would, but by the time they spend their last dime putting your picture on milk cartons and chasing down rumors of how you ran off with somebody else's boyfriend? They're going to hate to even think about you. Morganville's got it down to a science, making people disappear. They never disappear here. Always somewhere else."**

**Monica wasn't taunting her. That was the scary part. She was talking evenly, quietly, as if they were two equals having a friendly conversation.**

**"You want to know why I live in Howard?" she continued. "Because in this town, I can live anywhere I want. Any way I want. And you - you're just a walking organ donor. So take my advice, Claire. Don't get in my face, because if you do, you won't have one for long. Are we clear?"**

**Claire nodded slowly. She didn't dare look away. Monica reminded her of a feral dog, one that would jump for your throat the second you showed weakness. "We're clear," she said. "You're kind of a psycho. I get that."**

**"I might be," Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. "You're one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now."**

**Claire blinked. "Archaeologist."**

**Monica's eyes turned winter cold. "Oh, you'd better start running away now."**

**Claire went back to where Jennifer was standing, and reached behind her to drag the phone out from between the boxes. She held it up to Monica. "Speak clearly for the microphone. I want to make sure my friends get every word."**

**For a second, nobody moved, and then Monica laughed. "Damn, freak. You're going to be fun." She glanced away from Claire, behind her. "Not until I say so."**

**Claire looked over her shoulder. Gina was standing there, right there, and she had some kind of metal bar in her hand.**

**Oh my God. There was something awful and cold in Gina's eyes.**

**"She'll get hers," Monica said. "And we'll get to watch. But hey, why hurry? I haven't had this much fun in years."**

**Claire's legs felt like they'd suddenly turned into overcooked spaghetti. She wanted to throw up, wanted to cry, and didn't dare do anything but pretend to be brave. They'd kill her down here if they thought she was bluffing.**

**She walked past Gina, between two girls who wouldn't meet her eyes at all, and put her hand on the doorknob. As she did, she glanced down at the phone's display.**

"OMG" said Eve."you could of been killed"

"Monica you are so dead when we get home" said Richard through gritted teeth.

**NO SIGNAL.**

**She opened the door, walked outside, and found her bags dumped on the grass where she'd been abducted. She pocketed the phone, picked up the bags, and walked across the parking lot to Eve's car.**

**Eve was still sitting in the driver's seat, looking clown-pale and scared.**

**Claire tossed her bag in the back as Eve asked, "What happened? Did they see you?"**

**"No," Claire said. "No problems. I've got class. I'll see you later. Thanks, Eve. Um - here's your phone." She passed it over. Eve took it, still frowning. "I'll be home before dark."**

**"Better be," Eve said. "Seriously, Claire. You look - weird."**

**Claire laughed. "Me? Check the mirror."**

"lol" said Shane.

**Eve flipped her off, but the same way she'd have flipped off Shane. Claire grabbed her backpack, closed the door, and watched Eve's big black car cruise away. Heading back to work, she guessed.**

**She got halfway to her chem lab when her reaction hit her, and she sat down on a bench and cried silently into her hands.**

**Oh my God. Oh my God, I want to go home! She wasn't sure if that meant back to Michael's house, or all the way home, back in her room with her parents watching over her.**

"i think i wanted both" said Claire.

**I can't quit. She really couldn't. She never in her life had been able to, even when it might have been the smart thing to do.**

**She wiped her swollen eyes and went to class.**

**Nobody killed her that afternoon.**

"we can tell" said Myrnin."i mean if they killed ou then you wouldn't of meet me"

"its a figure of speech" said Eve.

**After the first couple of hours, she quit expecting it to happen, and focused on class. Her back-to-back labs weren't too much of a disaster, and she actually knew the answers in history. Bet Monica wouldn't, she thought, and looked guiltily around the classroom to see if Monica was there, or one of her crew. It wasn't a big class. She didn't see anybody who'd been in the basement.**

**She made it to the grocery store after class without getting killed, too. Nobody jumped her while she was picking out lettuce and tomatoes, or while she was in line for checkout. She thought the guy at the meat counter had looked suspicious, though.**

"paranoid" said Monica.

"shut up you cow" said Eve.

**She walked back to the Glass House, watching for vampires in the fading afternoon and feeling pretty stupid for even thinking about it. She didn't see anybody except other college students, strolling along with bulging backpacks. Most of them traveled in bunches. Once she got past the area that catered to students, the stores were closed, lights off, and what few people were walking were hurrying.**

**At the corner of Gone with the Wind and The Munsters, the front gate was open. She closed it behind her, unlocked the door with the shiny new key that she'd found on her dresser that morning, and slammed the door behind her.**

**There was a shadow standing at the end of the hallway. A tall, broad shadow in a grungy yellow T-shirt and low-slung, faded jeans frayed at the bottom. A shadow in bare feet.**

"michael" said most people.

**Shane.**

"damn it!" said those people.

**He just looked at her for a few seconds, then said, "Eve put your crap up in your room."**

**"Thanks."**

**"What's that?"**

**"Stuff for dinner."**

**He cocked his head slightly, still staring at her. "For a smart girl, you do some stupid things. You know that?"**

**"I know." She walked toward him. He didn't move.**

**"Eve says you never saw Monica."**

**"That's what I said."**

**"You know what? I'm not buying it."**

**"You know what?" she shot back. "I don't care. Excuse me." She ducked past him, into the kitchen, and set her bags down. Her hands were shaking. She balled them into fists and started setting out things on the counter. Ground beef. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Onions. Refried beans. Hot sauce, the kind she liked, anyway. Cheese. Sour cream. Taco shells.**

"yum! tacos!" sighed a lot f people.

**"Let me guess," Shane said from the doorway. "You're making Chinese."**

**She didn't answer. She was still too pissed and - all of a sudden - too scared. Scared of what, she didn't know. Everything. Nothing. Herself.**

"that is a lot to be scared of" said Myrnin.

**"Anything I can do?" His voice sounded different. Quieter, gentler, almost kind.**

**"Chop onions," she said, although she knew that wasn't exactly what he meant. Still, he came over, picked up the onions, and grabbed a huge scary-looking knife from a drawer. "You have to peel it first."**

**He shot her a dirty look, just like he would have Eve, and got to work.**

**"Um - I should probably call my mom," Claire said. "Can I use the phone?"**

**"You pay for long distance."**

**"Sure."**

**He shrugged, reached over, and grabbed the cordless phone, then pitched it underhanded to her. She nearly dropped it, but was kind of proud she didn't. She got out a big iron skillet from under the cabinet and put it on the counter, heated up the burner, and found some oil. As it was warming, she read over the thin little recipe book she'd bought at the store one more time, then dialed the phone.**

**Her mom answered on the second ring. "Yes?" It was never hello with her mother.**

**"Mom, it's Claire."**

**"Claire! Baby, where have you been? I've been trying to call you for days!"**

**"Classes," she said. "Sorry. I'm not home that much."**

**"Are you sleeping enough? If you don't get enough rest, you'll get sick - you know how you are - "**

**"Mom, I'm fine." Claire frowned down at the recipe on the counter in front of her. What did saute mean, exactly? Was it like frying? Diced, she understood. That was just cutting things into cubes, and Shane was doing that already. "Really. It's all okay now."**

**"Claire, I know it's hard. We really didn't want you to go even just the few hundred miles to TPU, honey. If you want to come back home, your dad and I would be so glad to have you back!"**

**"Honestly, Mom, I don't - I'm fine. It's okay. Classes are really good" - that was stretching the truth - "and I've made friends here. They're looking out for me."**

**"You're sure."**

**"Yes, Mom."**

**"Because I worry. I know you're very mature for your age but - "**

**Shane opened his mouth to say something. Claire made frantic NO NO NO motions at him, pointing at the phone. Mom! she mouthed. Shane held up both hands in surrender and kept chopping. Mom was still talking. Claire had missed some of it, but she didn't think it really mattered exactly. " - boys, right?"**

**Wow. Mom radar worked even at this distance. "What, Mom?"**

**"Your dorm doesn't allow boys to come up to the rooms, does it? There's someone on duty at the desk to make sure?"**

**"Yes, Mom. Howard Hall has somebody on duty twenty-four/seven to keep the nasty evil boys out of our rooms." She hadn't actually lied, Claire decided. That was completely true. The fact that she wasn't actually living in Howard Hall...well, that wasn't really something she needed to throw in, right?**

**"It's not a laughing matter. You've been very sheltered, Claire, and I don't want you to - "**

**"Mom, I have to go. I need to eat dinner and I have a ton of studying to do. How's Dad?"**

**"Dad's just fine, honey. He says hello. Oh, come on, Les, get up and say hello to your very smart daughter. It won't break your back."**

**Shane handed her a bowl full of diced onions. Claire cradled the phone against her ear and dropped a handful of them into the pan. They started sizzling immediately, much to her panic; she lifted the pan off the burner and almost dropped the phone.**

**"Hi, kiddo. How are classes?" That was Dad. Not How was your day? or Have you made any friends?**

**No, his philosophy had always been, Eyes on the prize; the other stuff just gets in your way.**

**And she loved him anyway. "Classes are great, Daddy."**

**"Are you frying something? Do they let you have hot plates in the dorm? Didn't in my day, I can tell you..."**

**"Um...no, I just opened a Coke." Okay, that was a straight-up lie. She hastily put the pan down, walked to the fridge, and pulled out a cold Coke so she could open it. There. Retroactively truthful. "How are you feeling?"**

**"Feel fine. Wish everybody would stop worrying about me, not like I'm the first man in history to have a little surgery."**

**"I know, Daddy."**

**"Doctors say I'm fine."**

**"That's great."**

**"Gonna have to go, Claire, the game's on. You're okay down there, aren't you?"**

**"Yes. I'm just fine. Daddy - "**

**"What is it, honey?"**

**Claire bit her lip and sipped Coke, indecisive. "Um...do you know anything about Morganville? History, that kind of thing?"**

**"Doing research, eh? Some kind of report? No, I don't know much. The university's been there for nearly a hundred years - that's all I know about it. I know you're on fire to get to the bigger schools, but I think you need to spend a couple of years close to home. We talked about all that."**

**"I know. I was just wondering... It's an interesting town, that's all."**

**"Okay, then. You let us know what you find out. Your mother wants to say good-bye." Dad never did.**

**By the time Claire got out "Bye, Dad!" he was already gone, and Mom was back on the line. "Honey, you call us if you get worried about anything, okay? Oh, call us whatever happens. We love you!"**

**"Love you, too, Mom. Bye."**

**She put the phone down and stared at the sizzling onions, then the recipe. When the onions turned transparent, she dumped in the ground beef.**

**"So, finished lying to the folks?" Shane asked, and reached around Claire to snag a bite of grated cheese from the bowl on the counter. "Tacos. Brilliant. Damn, I'm glad I voted somebody in with skills."**

"he does have a point" said Michael.

**"I heard that, Shane!" Eve yelled from the living room, just as the door slammed. Shane winced. "Do your own bathroom cleaning this weekend!"**

**Shane winced. "Truce!"**

**"Thought so."**

**Eve came in, still flushed from the heat outside. She'd sweated off most of her makeup, and underneath it, she looked surprisingly young and** **sweet.**

"thank you."

**"Oh my God, that looks like real food!"**

"it is real" said Myrnin.

**"Tacos," Shane said proudly, as if it were his idea. Claire elbowed him in the ribs, or tried to. His ribs were a lot more solid than her elbow. "Ow," he said. Not as if it hurt.**

**Claire glanced out the window. Night was falling fast, the way it did in Texas at the end of the day - furious burning sun all of a sudden giving way to a warm, sticky twilight. "Is Michael here?" she asked.**

**"Guess so." Shane shrugged. "He's always here for dinner."**

**The three of them got everything ready, and sometime midway through the assembly-line process they'd developed - Claire putting meat in taco shells, Eve adding toppings, Shane spooning beans onto the plates - a fourth pair of hands added itself to the line. Michael looked as if he'd just gotten up and showered - wet hair, sleepy eyes, beads of water still sliding down to soak the collar of his black knit shirt. Like Shane, he was wearing jeans, but he'd gone formal, with actual shoes.**

"OMG! Michael was wearing shoes!" said Eve.

**"Hey," he greeted them. "This looks good."**

**"Claire did it," Eve jumped in as Shane opened his mouth. "Don't even let Shane take credit."**

**"Wasn't going to!" Shane looked offended.**

**"Riiiiiight."**

**"I chopped. What did you do?"**

**"Cleaned up after you, like always."**

**Michael looked over at Claire and made a face. She laughed and picked up her plate; Michael picked up his, and followed her out into the living room.**

**Someone - Michael, she guessed - had cleared the big wood table next to the bookcases, and set up four chairs around it. The stuff that had been piled there - video game cases, books, sheet music - had been dumped in other places, with a cheerful disregard for order. (Maybe, she amended, that had been Shane's idea.) She set her plate down, and Eve promptly slapped her own down next to Claire's and slid a cold Coke across to her, along with a fork and napkin. Michael and Shane strolled back in, took seats, and began shoveling in food like - well, like boys. Eve nibbled. Claire, who was surprisingly hungry, found herself on her second taco before Eve had gotten through her first one.**

**Shane was already headed back for more.**

"like normal" everyone sighed.

**"Hey, dude," he said as he returned with a reloaded plate, "when are you going to get a gig again?"**

**Michael stopped chewing, flashed a look at Eve, then Claire, and then finished the bite before saying,**

**"When I'm ready."**

**"Pussy. You had a bad night, Mike. Get back on the horse, or whatever." Eve frowned at Shane, and shook her head. Shane ignored her. "Seriously, man. You can't let them get you down."**

**"I'm not," Michael said. "Not everything is about beating your head against the wall until it breaks."**

**"Just most things." Shane sighed. "Whatever. You let me know when you want to stop hermiting."**

**"I'm not hermiting. I'm practicing."**

**"Like you don't play good enough. Please."**

**"I get no respect," Michael said. Shane, busy taking another crunchy bite, rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Yeah, I know, world's smallest violin playing just for me. Change the subject. How was that hot date with Lisa, anyway? Rented shoes turn her on or what?"**

**"It's Laura," Shane said. "Yeah, she was hot, all right, but I think she had the hots for you - kept saying how she saw you over at the Waterhouse last year and you were all, like, wow, amazing. It was like a menage ? trois, only you weren't there, thank God."**

**Michael looked smug. "Shut up and eat."**

**Shane shot him the finger.**

**All in all, it was a pretty good time.**

"like always" said the Glass House Gang.

**Michael and Eve washed dishes, having lost out on the coin toss, and Claire hovered in the living room, not sure what she wanted to do. Studying sounded - boring, which surprised her. Shane was concentrating on the video game selection, bare feet propped up on the coffee table. Without looking directly at Claire, he asked, "You want to see something cool?"**

**"Sure," she said. She expected him to put a game in, but he dumped it back in the pile, got up off the couch, and padded up the stairs. She stood at the bottom, staring up, wondering what to do. Shane appeared at the top of the stairs again and gestured, and she followed.**

**The second floor was quiet, of course, and dimly lit; she blinked and saw Shane already halfway down the hall. Was he heading for her room? Not that she didn't have a crazy hot picture in her head of sitting on the bed with him, making out...and she had no idea why that popped into her head, except that, well, he was just...yeah.**

"and that really hot picture came true in the end" said Shane."maybe we can reenact it later"

"ewwww" shouted everyone apart from Claire who was laughing.

**Shane moved aside a picture hanging on the wall between her room and Eve's, and pressed a button underneath.**

**And a door opened on the other side of the wall. It was built into the paneling, and she'd never have even known it was there. She gasped, and Shane beamed like he'd invented the wheel. "Cool, huh? This damn house is full of crap like that. Trust me, in Morganville it pays to be up on the hiding places." He pushed open the door, revealed another set of stairs, and padded up them. She expected them to be dusty, but they weren't; the wood was clean and polished. Shane's feet left prints of the ball of his foot and his toes.**

**It was a narrow pitch of just eight steps, half a story, really, and there was another door at the top. Shane opened it and flipped on a switch just inside. "First time I saw this, and the room back of the pantry, I figured, yep. Vampire house. What do you think?"**

**If she believed in vampires, he might have been right. It was a small room, no windows, and it was...old.**

"very, very old" said Oliver.

**It wasn't just the stuff in it, which was antique and dark; it had this sense of...something ancient, something not quite right. And it was cold. Cold, in the middle of a Texas heat wave.**

**She shivered. "Does everybody know about this room?"**

**"Oh yeah. Eve says it's haunted. Can't really blame her. It creeps me the hell out, too. Cool, though.**

**We'd have stuck you in here when the cops came, only they'd have seen you through the windows coming out of the kitchen. They're nosy bastards." Shane wandered across the thick Persian carpet to flop on the dark red Victorian couch. Dust rose in a cloud, and he waved it off, coughing. "So what do you think? Think Michael sleeps off his evil-undead days in here, or what?"**

**She blinked. "What?"**

**"Oh, come on. You think he's one of them, right? 'Cause he doesn't show up during the day?"**

**"I - I don't think anything!"**

**Shane nodded, eyes downcast. "Right. You weren't sent here."**

**"Sent - sent here by who?"**

**"I got to thinking... The cops were looking for you, but maybe they were looking for you to make us want to keep you here, instead of pitch you out. So which is it? Are you working for them?"**

**"Them?" she echoed thinly. "Them, who?" Shane suddenly looked at her, and she shivered again. He wasn't like Monica, not at all, but he wasn't playing around, either. "Shane, I don't know what you mean. I came to Morganville to go to school, and got beaten up, and I came here because I was scared. ****If you don't believe me - well, then I guess I'll go. Hope you liked the tacos."**

**She went to the door, and stopped, confused.**

**There wasn't a doorknob.**

**Behind her, Shane said quietly, "The reason I think this is a vampire's room? You can't get out of it unless you know the secret. That's real convenient, if you like to bring victims up here for a little munch session."**

**She whirled around, expecting to see him standing there with that huge knife he'd used on the onions, and she'd broken the first rule of horror movies, hadn't she, or was it the second one? She'd trusted someone she shouldn't have...**

**But he was still sitting on the couch, slumped at ease, arms flung over the back on both sides.**

**Not even looking at her.**

**"Let me out," she said. Her heart was hammering.**

**"In a minute. First, you tell me the truth."**

**"I have!" And, to her fury and humiliation, she started to cry. Again. "Dammit! You think I'm trying to hurt you? Hurt Michael? How could I? I'm the one everybody hurts!"**

**He looked at her then, and she saw the hardness melt away. His voice was a lot gentler when he spoke.**

**"And if I was somebody who wanted to kill Michael, I'd put somebody like you in to do it. Be real easy for you to kill somebody, Claire. Poison some food, slip a knife in his back...and I have to look out for Michael."**

**"I thought he looked out for you." She swiped angrily at her eyes. "Why do you think somebody wants to kill him?"**

**Shane raised his eyebrows. "Always somebody wanting to kill a vampire."**

**"But - he's not. Eve said - "**

**"Yeah, I know he's not a vampire, but he doesn't get up during the day, he doesn't go out of the house, and I can't get him to tell me what happened, so he might as well be. And somebody's going to think so, sooner or later. Most people in Morganville are either Protected or clueless - kind of like you can raise rabbits for either pets or meat. But some of them fight back."**

**She blinked the last of the brief storm of tears away. "Like you?"**

**He cocked his head to one side. "Maybe. How about you? You a fighter, Claire?"**

**"I'm not working for anybody. And I wouldn't kill Michael even if he was a vampire."**

**Shane laughed. "Why not? Besides the fact that he'd snap you in two like a twig if he was."**

**"Because - because - " She couldn't put it into words, exactly. "Because I like him."**

"not in that way" said Claire.

**Shane watched her for another few, long seconds, and then pressed a raised spot on the head of the lion-carving armrest of the couch.**

**The door clicked and popped open half an inch.**

**"Good enough for me," he said. "So. Dessert?"**

"dessert? all you could say was dessert? how could you take Claire to the secret room and ask if she was going to kill Michael? how could you Shane Collins? how could you?" shouted Eve.

"i don't think we should be talking about Mr Collins but about Miss Morrell" said Amelie."i think she should be arrested for assault"

"i think we should sort this out after we finish the books" said Hannah.

"right who is reading next?" asked Claire.

"i will" said Oliver.

* * *

**OMG finally finished! please review xxx**

**here is the link for the MOTGANVILLE VAMPIRES wb show kickstarter**

** projects/2059515068/morganville-the-web-tv-series**


	9. Chapter 7

**okay next chapter xxx**

* * *

**She couldn't sleep.**

"hate that feeling" said Eve.

**Maybe it was the memory of that creepy little Gothic room - which she suspected Eve really, deeply loved**

"well i did before all the crap started" said Eve.

"Eve the crap started before we were born" said Shane.

-** but all of a sudden, her lovely cozy room seemed full of shadows, and the creaks of old wood in the wind sounded...stealthy. Maybe the house eats people, Claire thought, lying there alone in the dark, watching the bone-thin shadows of branches shudder on the far wall. The wind made twigs tap her window, like something trying to get in. Eve had said vampires couldn't get in, but what if they could?**

"we can now that Michael is vampire" said Myrnin

"we know" said Claire.

**What if they were already inside? What if Michael...?**

**She heard a soft, silvery note, and knew that Michael was playing downstairs. Something about that helped - pushed the shadows back, turned the sounds into something normal and soothing. It was just a house, and they were just kids sharing it, and if there was anything wrong, well, it was outside.**

**She must have slept then, but it didn't feel like it; some noise startled her awake, and when Claire checked the clock next to her bed it was close to five thirty. The sky wasn't light outside, but it wasn't totally dark, either; the stars were faded, soft sparkles in a sky gradually turning dark blue.**

"oh no" said Michael.

"what" said Shane.

"you will see" said Michael.

**Michael's guitar was still going, very quietly. Didn't he ever sleep? Claire slid out of bed, tossed a blanket over her shoulders over the T-shirt she wore to bed, and shuffled out and into the still-dark hallway. As she passed the hidden door she glanced at it and shivered, then continued on to the bathroom. Once she'd gotten that out of the way - and brushed her hair - she crept quietly down the steps and sat down, blanket around her, listening to Michael play.**

"i am so sorry about that night" said Claire.

"it is okay. any way i am glad you saw what happened" answered Michael.

**His head was down, and he was deep into it; she watched his fingers move light and quick on the strings, his body rock slowly with the rhythm, and felt a deep sense of...safety. Nothing bad could happen around Michael. She just knew it.**

**Next to him, a clock beeped an alarm. He looked up, startled, and slapped it off, then got up and put his guitar away. She watched, puzzled... Did he have someplace to be? Or did he actually have to set an alarm to go to bed? Wow, that was obsession...**

**Michael stood, watching the clock as if it were his personal enemy, and then he turned and walked over to the window.**

by now everyone was looking worried and Michael had his head in his hands.

**The sky was the color of dark turquoise now, all but the strongest stars faded. Michael, holding a beer in his hand, drank the rest of the bottle and put it down on the table, crossed his arms, and waited.**

**Claire was about to ask him what he was waiting for when the first ray of sun crept up in a blinding orange knife, and Michael gasped and hunched over, pressing on his stomach.**

**Claire lunged to her feet, startled and afraid for the look of sheer agony on his face. The movement caught his attention, and he jerked his head toward her, blue eyes wide.**

**"No," he moaned, and pitched forward to his hands and knees, gasping. "Don't."**

**She ignored that and jumped down the stairs to run to his side, but once she was there she didn't know what to do, didn't have any idea how to help him. Michael was breathing in deep, aching gasps, in terrible pain.**

**She put her hand on his back, felt his fever-hot skin burning through the thin cloth, and heard him make a sound like nothing she'd ever heard in her life.**

**Like someone dying, she thought in panic, and opened her mouth to scream for Shane, Eve, anybody.**

**Her hand suddenly went right through him. The scream, for whatever reason, locked tight in her throat as Michael - transparent Michael - looked up at her with despair and desperation in his eyes.**

**"Oh, God, don't tell them." His voice came from a long, long way off, a whisper that faded on the shafts of morning sun.**

**And so did he.**

"oh god Michael" said Eve with tears in her eyes.

"i am fine" moaned Michael.

Eve and Claire moved either side of Michael with there heads on his shoulders and there arms around his waste. after a minuet Michael put his arms around there shoulders.

**Claire, mouth still open, utterly unable to speak, waved her hand slowly through the thin air where Michael Glass had been standing. Slowly, then faster. The air felt cold around her, like she was standing in a blast from an air conditioner, and the chill slowly faded.**

**Like Michael.**

**"Oh my God," she whispered, and clapped both hands over her mouth.**

**And muffled the scream that she had to let out or explode.**

**She might have blacked out a little, because next thing she knew, she was sitting on the couch, next to Michael's guitar case, and she felt kind of funny. Bad funny, as if her brain had turned liquid and sloshed around in her head.**

**Weirdly calm, though. She reached over and touched the leather cover of his guitar case. It felt real.**

**When she flipped up the latches and pulled her shaking fingers across the strings, they made a wistful sort of whisper.**

**He's a ghost. Michael's a ghost.**

**He wasn't a ghost. How could he be a ghost, if he sat here - right here! - at the table and ate dinner?**

**Tacos! What kind of ghost ate tacos? What kind of...?**

**Her hand went right through him. Right through him.**

**But he was real. She'd touched him. She'd -**

**Her hand went right through him.**

**"Don't panic," she said numbly, out loud. "Just...don't panic. There's some explanation..." Yeah, right.**

**She'd stumble over to Professor Wu's physics class and ask. She could just imagine how that would go over. They'd toss a net over her and pump her full of Prozac or whatever.**

**He'd said, Oh, God, don't tell them. Tell who? Tell...? Was he gone? Was he dead?**

**She was about carried away by panic again, and then something stopped it cold. Something silly, really.**

**The alarm clock sitting on the table next to the sofa. The one that had gone off just a few minutes ago.**

**The one that had warned Michael that sunrise was coming.**

**This happens...every day. He hadn't acted like it was odd, just painful.**

**Shane and Eve had both said that Michael slept days. They were both night owls; they were sound asleep right now, and wouldn't be up for hours yet. Michael could have...disappeared...daily like this with nobody paying attention.**

**Until she came along, and got nosy.**

**Don't tell them. Why not? What was so secret?**

**She was crazy. That was the only rational explanation. But if she was crazy, she wasn't rational...**

**Claire curled up on the sofa, shivering, and felt cold air brush over her again. Ice-cold. She sat up.**

**"Michael?" she blurted, and sat very still. The chill went away, then brushed over her again. "I - I think I can feel you. Are you still here?" Another second or two without the icy draft, and then it drifted across her skin. "So - you can see us?" Yes, she figured, since the warm-cold cycle repeated. "You don't go away during the day? Oh - um, stay where you are if it's no, okay?" The chill stayed steady. "Wow. ****That's - harsh." A yes, and weirdly, she felt a little cheered. Okay, she was having a conversation with a breeze, but at least she didn't feel alone. "You don't want me to tell Shane and Eve?" Clearly, a no. If anything, it got colder. "Is there anything - anything I can do?" Also a no. "Michael - will you come back?" Yes. "Tonight?" Yes, again. "We are so going to talk."**

**The chill withdrew completely. Yes.**

"only a freak could have a conversation with a ghost" sneered Monica.

"Miss Morrell please be quiet or your punishment will be even worst." said Amelie.

**She collapsed back on the sofa, feeling giddy and strange and exhausted. There was a ratty old blanket piled near the guitar case; she carefully moved the instrument over to the table (and imagined an invisible Michael following her anxiously the whole way), then wrapped herself in the blanket and let herself drift off into sleep, with the ticking of the grandfather clock and memories of Michael's guitar as a soundtrack.**

**That day, Claire went to class. Eve argued with her; Shane didn't. Nothing much happened, although Claire spotted Monica twice on campus. Monica was surrounded by admirers, both male and female, and didn't have time for grudges. Claire kept her head down and stayed out of any deserted areas. It was an early afternoon for her - no labs - and although she wanted to get home and wait around for Michael to show up (and boy, she wanted to see how that** **happened!) **

"only you" sighed Shane.

**she knew she'd drive herself crazy, and make Shane suspicious.**

**As she walked in that general direction, she spotted the small coffee shop, wedged in between the skateboard shop and a used-book store. Common Grounds. That was where Eve worked, and she'd said to stop by...**

**The bell rang with a silvery tinkle as Claire pushed open the door, and it was like walking into the living room of the Glass House, only a little more Gothic. Black leather sofas and chairs, thick colorful rugs, accent walls in beige and blood red, lots of nooks and crannies. There were five or six students scattered at cafe tables and built-in desks. None looked up from their books or computers. The whole place smelled like coffee, a constant simmering warmth.**

"hey is this when we think Oliver is a nice guy" asked Eve.

"yep" answered Claire.

**Claire stood for a second, indecisive, and then walked over to an empty desk and dumped her backpack before going to the counter. There were two people behind the waist-high barrier. One was Eve, of course, looking perky and doll-like with her dye-dark hair in two pigtails, eyes rimmed with liner, and lipstick a dramatic Goth black. She was wearing a black mesh shirt over a red camisole, and she grinned when she spotted Claire.**

**The other was an older man, tall, thin, with graying curly hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. He had a nice, square face, wide dark eyes, and a ruby earring in his left ear. Hippie to the core, Claire guessed.**

**He smiled, too.**

**"Hey, it's Claire!" Eve said, and hurried around the counter to slip her arm around Claire's shoulders.**

**"Claire, this is Oliver. My boss."**

**Claire nodded hesitantly. He looked nice, but hey, a boss. Bosses made her nervous, like parents.**

**"Hello, sir."**

**"Sir?" Oliver had a deep voice, and an even deeper laugh. "Claire, you've got to learn about me. I'm not a sir. Believe me."**

**"That's true." Eve nodded wisely. "He's a dude. You'll like him. Hey, want a coffee? My treat?"**

**"I - uh - "**

**"Don't touch the stuff, right?" Eve rolled her eyes. "One noncoffee drink, coming up. How about hot cocoa? Chai? Tea?"**

**"Tea, I guess."**

**Eve went back behind the counter and did some stuff, and within a couple of minutes, a big white cup and saucer appeared in front of Claire, with a tea bag steeping in the steaming water. "On the house. ****Well, actually, on me, because, yikes, boss is right here."**

**Oliver, who was working on some complicated machine that Claire guessed was something that made cappuccino, shook his head and grinned to himself. Claire watched him curiously. He looked a little bit like a distant cousin she'd met from France - the same kind of hook nose, anyway.**

"whoa he better not be your cousin" said Shane.

"dude he is over 500 years! how wold Claire know" said Michael.

"just carry on Oliver" said Claire.

**She wondered if he'd been a professor at the university, or just a perpetual student. Either looked possible.**

**"I heard you had some trouble," Oliver said, still concentrating on unscrewing parts on the machine. ****"Girls in the dorm."**

**"Yeah," she admitted, and felt her cheeks burn. "Everything's okay, though."**

**"I'm sure it is. Listen, though: if you have trouble like that, you come here and tell me about it. I'll make sure it stops." He said it with absolute assurance. She blinked, and his dark eyes moved to rest on hers for a few seconds. "I'm not without influence around here. Eve tells me that you're very gifted. We can't have some bad apples driving you off."**

"please tell me you trusted him" said Shane.

**"Um...thanks?" She didn't mean to make it a question; it just came out that way. "Thanks. I will."**

**Oliver nodded and went back to his work dissecting the coffeemaker. Claire found a seat not far away.**

**Eve slipped out from behind the counter and pulled up a chair next to her, leaning forward, all restless energy. "Isn't he great?" she asked. "He means it, you know. He's got some kind of pipeline to - " She made a V sign with her fingers. V, for vampires. "They listen to him. He's good to have on your side."**

"he is" said Amelie.

**Claire nodded, dunking the tea bag and watching the dark stains spread through the water. "You talk about me to everybody?"**

**Eve looked stricken. "No! Of course I don't! I just - well, I was worried. I thought maybe Oliver knew something that...Claire, you said it yourself - they tried to kill you. Somebody ought to be doing something about that."**

**"Him?"**

**"Why not him?" Eve jittered her leg, tapping the thick heel on her black Mary Janes. Her hose had green and black horizontal stripes. "I mean, I get that you're all about being self-sufficient, but come on. A little help never hurts."**

**She wasn't wrong. Claire sighed, took the tea bag out, and sipped the hot drink. Not bad, even on a blazing-hot day.**

**"Stay," Eve said. "Study. It's a really good place for that. I'll drive you home, okay?"**

**Claire nodded, suddenly grateful; there were too many places to get lost on the way home, if Monica had noticed her after all. She didn't like the idea of walking three blocks between the student streets, where things were bright and busy, and the colorless hush of the rest of the town, where the Glass House lived.**

**She put the tea to one side and unpacked books. Eve went back to take orders from three chattering girls wearing sorority T-shirts. They were rude to her, and giggled behind her back. Eve didn't seem to notice - or if she did, she didn't care.**

**Oliver did. He put down the tools he was using, as Eve bustled around getting drinks, and stared steadily at the girls. One by one, they went quiet. It wasn't anything he did, exactly, just the steadiness of the way he watched them.**

**When Eve took their money, each one of the girls meekly thanked her and took her change.**

**They didn't stay.**

**Oliver smiled slightly, picked up a piece of the disassembled machine, and polished it before reattaching it. He must have known Claire was watching, because he said, in a very low voice, "I don't tolerate rudeness. Not in my place."**

**She wasn't sure if he was talking about the girls, or her staring at him, so she hurriedly went back to her books.**

"both" said Oliver.

**Quadratic equations were a great way to pass the afternoon.**

"oh they are aren't they! very good but so is physics" said Myrnin.

**Eve's shift ended at nine, just as the nightlife at Common Grounds picked up; Claire, not used to the babble, chatter, and music, couldn't keep her mind on her books anyway. She was glad of an excuse to go when Eve's replacement - a surly-looking pimpled boy about Shane's age - took her place behind the counter. Eve went in the back to get her stuff, and Claire packed up her backpack.**

**"Claire." She looked up, startled that somebody remembered her name other than, well, people who wanted to kill her, and saw Kim Valdez, from the dorm.**

**"Hey, Kim," she said. "Thanks for helping me out - "**

**Kim looked mad. Really mad. "Don't even start! You left my cello just laying around out there! Do you have any idea how hard I worked for that thing? Way to be an asshole!"**

**"But - I didn't - "**

**"Don't lie. You bugged out somewhere. Hope you got your bags and crap. I left them out there just like you left my stuff." Kim jammed her hands in her pockets and glared at her. "Don't ask me for any favors again. Right?"**

**She didn't wait for an answer, just moved off toward the counter. Claire sighed. "I won't," she said, and zipped the backpack. She waited for a few minutes, but the crowd was getting thicker, and Eve was nowhere in sight. She stood up, stepped out of the way of a group of boys, and backed into a table in the shadowy corner.**

**"Hey," a voice said softly.**

"Claire is making friends" said Myrnin.

**She looked back and saw a coffee cup tipping over, and a pale, long-fingered hand catching it before it did. The hand belonged to a young man - she couldn't really call him a boy - with thick dark hair and light-colored eyes, who'd claimed the table when she wasn't looking.**

**"Sorry," she said. He smiled at her and licked a couple of drops of coffee from the back of his hand with a pale tongue.**

**She felt something streak hot down her backbone, and shivered. He smiled wider.**

**"Sit," he said. "I'm Brandon. You?"**

**"Claire," she heard herself say, and even though she didn't intend to, she sat, backpack thumping on the floor beside her. "Um, hi."**

**"Hello." His eyes weren't just light; they were pale - a shade of blue so faint it was almost silver.**

**Scary-cool. "Are you here alone, Claire?"**

**"I - no, I - ah - " She was babbling like an idiot, and didn't know what was wrong with her. The way he was looking at her made her feel naked. Not in a secretly cool, wow-I-think-he-likes-me way, but in a way that made her want to hide and cover herself. "I'm here with a friend."**

**"A friend," he said, and reached across to take her hand. She wanted to pull it back - she did - but somehow she couldn't get control of herself. All she could do was watch as he turned her hand palm down, and brought it to his mouth to kiss. The warm, damp pressure of his lips on her fingers made her shiver all over.**

**Then he brushed his thumb across her wrist. "Where is your bracelet, little Claire? Good girls wear their bracelets. Don't you have one?"**

**"I - " There was something sick and terrible happening in her head, something that made her tell the truth.**

**"No. I don't have one." Because she knew now what Brandon was, and she was sorry she'd laughed at Eve, sorry she'd ever doubted any of it.**

**You'll get yours, Monica had promised.**

**Well, here it was.**

**"I see." Brandon's eyes seemed to get even paler, until they were pure white with tiny black dots for pupils. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. "The only question is who will have you, then. And since I'm here first - "**

**He let go of her, both her hand and her mind, and she fell backward with a breathless little gasp.**

**Somebody was standing behind her chair, a solid warmth, and Brandon was frowning and staring past her.**

**"You offend my hospitality," Oliver said, and put his hand on Claire's shoulder. "You ever bother my friend Claire in here again, Brandon, and I'll have to revoke the privileges for everyone. Understand? I don't think you want to be explaining that."**

"my friend Claire" snorted Myrnin.

**Brandon looked furious. His eyes were blue again, but as Claire watched, he snarled at Oliver, and revealed fangs. Real, genuine fangs, like a snake's, that snapped down into place from some hidden spot inside of his mouth, and then back up again, quick as a scorpion's sting.**

**"None of that," Oliver said calmly. "I'm not impressed. Off with you. Don't make me have a conversation with Amelie about you."**

**Brandon slid out of his chair and slouched away through the crowd, toward the exit. It was dark outside now, Claire noticed. He went out into the night and disappeared from sight.**

**Oliver still had his hand on her shoulder, and now he squeezed it gently. "That was unfortunate," he said. ****"You need to be careful, Claire. Stay with Eve. Watch out for each other. I'd hate to see anything happen to you."**

**She nodded, gulping. Eve came hurrying out of the back, leather coat flapping around her ankles. Her smile died at the sight of Claire's face. "What happened?"**

**"Brandon came in," Oliver said. "Trolling. Claire happened to run into him."**

**"Oh," Eve said in a small voice. "Are you okay?"**

**"She's fine. I spotted him before any permanent damage was done. Take her home, Eve. And keep a sharp eye out for that one; he doesn't take being ordered off very well."**

**Eve nodded and helped Claire to her feet, picked up the backpack, and got her outside. The big black Caddy was parked at the curb, and Eve unlocked it and thoroughly checked it over, backseat and trunk, before putting Claire inside of it. When Claire was fastening the seat belt, she noticed two things: first, Oliver was standing in the doorway of Common Grounds, watching them.**

**Second, Brandon was standing at the corner, in the very edge of the glow of the streetlamp. And he was watching them, too.**

**Eve saw, too. "Son of a bitch," she said furiously, and shot him the finger. Which might not have been too smart, but it made Claire feel better. **

"wow Claire never knew the finger could make you feel better" said Eve.

"shut up" said Claire.

**Eve cranked the engine and squealed out of her parking space, driving like she was breaking the record at a NASCAR race, and screeched to a halt in front of the house just a couple of minutes later. "Okay, you go first," she said. "Run for the door, bang on it while you're opening it. Go, Claire!"**

**Claire bailed out breathlessly and slammed the gate back, pounded up the paved walk and up the stairs as she was digging her key out of her pocket. Her hands were shaking, and she missed the keyhole on the first try. She kicked the door and yelled, "Shane! Michael!" as she tried again.**

**Behind her, she heard the car door slam, and Eve's shoes clatter on the sidewalk...and stop.**

**"Now," said Brandon's low, cold voice, "let's not be rude, Eve."**

**Claire whirled, and saw Eve standing absolutely still ten steps from the porch, her back to the house. Hot wind whipped her leather coat behind her with a dry snapping sound.**

**Brandon was facing her, his eyes completely white in the pale starlight.**

**"Who's your sweet little friend?" he asked.**

**"Leave her alone." Eve's voice was faint and shaking. "She's just a kid."**

**"You're all just kids." He shrugged. "Nobody asks the age of the cow that gave you hamburger."**

**Claire, purely terrified now, concentrated, turned back to the door, and rammed the key into the lock...**

**...just as Shane whipped it open.**

**"Eve!" she gasped, and Shane pushed her out of the way, jumped down the steps, and got between Eve and Brandon.**

**"Inside," Michael said. Claire hadn't heard him, hadn't seen him coming, but he was in the doorway, gesturing her in. As soon as she was over the threshold he grabbed her arm and pushed her out of sight behind him. She peeked around him to see what was happening.**

**Shane was talking, but whatever he was saying, she couldn't hear it. Eve was backing up, slowly, and when the back of her heels touched the porch steps she whirled and ran up, diving into the doorway and Michael's arms.**

**"Shane!" Michael shouted.**

**Brandon lunged at Shane. Shane dodged, yelled, and kicked the vampire with all his weight. Brandon flew backward into the fence, broke through, and rolled into the street.**

**Shane fell flat on the ground, scrambled up, and ran for the door. It was impossible for Brandon to move that fast, but the vampire seemed to flash from lying in the street to reaching for Shane's back...**

**...and grabbed hold of Shane's T-shirt, yanking him to a sudden stop. But Shane was reaching, too, for Michael's hand, and Michael pulled him forward.**

**The shirt ripped, Shane stumbled in over the threshold, and Brandon tried to follow. He bounced off an invisible barrier, and for the second time Claire saw his fangs snap down, deadly sharp.**

**Michael didn't even flinch. "Try it again, and we'll come stake you in your sleep," he said. "Count on it. ****Tell your friends."**

**He slammed the door. Eve collapsed against the wall, panting and trembling; Claire couldn't stop shaking, either. Shane looked flushed and more worried about the damage to his T-shirt than anything else.**

**Michael grabbed Eve by the shoulders. "You okay?"**

**"Yeah. Yeah, he never - wow. That was close."**

**"No kidding. Claire?"**

**She waved, unable to summon up a word.**

**"Where the hell did he come from?" Shane asked.**

**"He picked up Claire's scent at the coffee shop," Eve said. "I couldn't shake him. Sorry."**

**"Damn. That's not good."**

**"I know."**

**Michael clicked the locks on the front door. "Check the back. Make sure we're secure, Shane. Upstairs, too."**

**"Check." Shane moved off. "Dammit, this was my last Killers T-shirt. Somebody's paying for this..."**

**"Sorry, Michael," Eve said. "I tried, I really did."**

**"I know. Had to happen sooner or later, with four of us here. You did okay. Don't worry about it."**

**"I'm glad you and Shane were here."**

**Michael started to say something, then stopped, looking at Claire. Eve didn't seem to notice. She stripped off her leather coat and hung it on a peg by the door, and clumped off in the direction of the living room.**

**"We were just attacked," Claire finally managed to say. "By a vampire."**

**"Yeah, I saw," Michael said.**

**"No, you don't understand. We were attacked. By a vampire. Do you know how impossible that is?"**

**Michael sighed. "Truthfully? No. I grew up here, and so did Eve and Shane. We're just kind of used to it."**

**"That's crazy!"**

**"Absolutely."**

**It hit her then that there was another impossible thing she'd nearly forgotten about, in the press of panic, and she started to blurt it out, then looked around to be sure Shane and Eve were nowhere in sight.**

**"What about, you know? You?" She pointed at him.**

**"Me?" He raised his eyebrows. "Oh. Right. Upstairs."**

"wait you two had a secret talk" said Shane.

"Shane we have all had secret talks in this house" said Eve.

**She expected him to take her to the secret room Shane had shown her, but he didn't; instead, he took her to his own room, the big one on the corner. It was about twice the size of her own room, but didn't have much more furniture; it did have a fireplace - empty this time of year - and a couple of chairs and a reading lamp. Michael settled in one. Claire took the other, feeling small and cold in the heavy leather seat. The wing chair was about twice her size.**

**"Right," Michael said, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Let's talk about this morning." But having said that, he didn't seem to know how to start. He fidgeted, staring at the carpet.**

**"You died," Claire said. "You vanished."**

**He seemed glad to have something to respond to. "Not exactly, but - yeah. Close enough. You know I used to be a musician?"**

**"You still are!"**

**"Musicians play someplace besides their own houses. You heard Shane at dinner. He's pushing to find out why I'm not playing gigs. Truth is, I can't. I can't go outside of this house."**

**She remembered him standing in the doorway, white-faced, watching Shane face off with Brandon. That hadn't been caution; he wanted to be out there, fighting next to his friend. But he couldn't.**

"that is kinda sad" said Eve.

**"What happened?" she asked softly. She could tell it wasn't going to be an easy story.**

**"Vampire," he said. "Mostly they just feed, and eventually they kill you if they feed hard enough. Some of them like that kind of thing, not all of them. But - this one was different. He followed me back from a gig and tried - tried to make me - "**

**She felt her face burn, and dropped her gaze. "Oh. Oh God."**

**"Not that," he said. "Not exactly. He tried to make me a vampire. But he couldn't. I guess he - killed me. Or nearly, anyway. But he couldn't make me into what he was, and he was trying. It nearly killed us both. When I woke up later, it was daylight, he was gone, and I was a ghost. Wasn't until night came that I realized I could make myself real again. But only at night." He shook his head slowly, rubbing his hands together as if trying to wash off a stain. "I think the house keeps me alive."**

**"The house?" she echoed.**

**"It's old. And it has a kind of - " He shrugged. "A kind of power. I don't know what it is, exactly. When my parents traded up to this house, they only lived here for a couple of months, then moved away to New York. Didn't like the vibes. I liked it fine. I think it liked me, too. But anyway, I can't leave it. I've tried."**

**"Even during the day? When you're not, you know, here?"**

**"Doesn't matter," he said. "Can't go out any door, window, or crack. I'm trapped here."**

**He looked oddly relieved to be telling her. **

"i was" said Michael.

**If he hadn't told Shane or Eve, he probably hadn't told anybody. That felt odd, being the keeper of that secret, because it was a big one. Attacked by a vampire, left for dead, turned into a ghost, trapped in the house? How many secrets was that, anyway?**

**Something occurred to her. "You said - the vampire, did he...drink your blood?"**

**Michael nodded. He didn't meet her eyes.**

**"And - you died?"**

**Another silent nod.**

**"What happened to your - you know - body?"**

**"I'm still kind of using it." He gestured at himself. Claire, unable to stop herself, reached out and touched him. He felt real and warm and alive. "I don't know how it works, Claire, I really don't. Except I do think it's the house, not me."**

**She took a deep breath. "Do you drink blood?"**

**He looked up this time, surprised, lips parted. "No. Of course I don't. I told you, he couldn't - make me what he was."**

**"You're sure."**

**"I eat Shane's garlic chili. Does that sound like a vampire to you?"**

**She shrugged thoughtfully. "Until today, I thought I knew what a vampire was, all capes and fake Romanian accents and stuff. What about crosses? Do crosses work?"**

**"Sometimes. Don't rely on them, though. The older ones aren't stopped by things like that."**

**"How about Brandon?" Since he was her main concern right now.**

**Michael's lip curled. "Brandon's a punk. You could melt him with a Super Soaker full of tap water, so long as you told him it was blessed. He's dangerous, but so far as vampires go, he's at the bottom of the food chain. It's the ones who don't go around flashing fangs and trying to grab you off the street you need to worry about. And yeah, wear a cross - but keep it under your clothes. You'll have to make one if you don't already have one - they don't sell them anywhere in town. And if you can find things like holy water and Eucharist, keep them on hand, but the vampires in this town closed down most of the churches fifty years ago. There's still a few operating underground. Be careful, though. Don't believe everything you hear, and never, ever go by yourself."**

**That was the longest speech she'd ever heard from Michael. **

"i think it was the longest speech i have ever said" sighed Michael.

**It tumbled out in a flood, driven with intensity and frustration. He can't do anything. He can't do anything to help us when we go outside the door.**

**"Why did you let us move in?" she asked. "After - what happened to you?"**

**He smiled. It didn't look quite right somehow. "I got lonely," he said. "And since I can't leave the house, there's too much I can't do. I needed somebody to help with groceries and stuff. And...being a ghost doesn't exactly pay the bills. Shane - Shane was looking for a place to stay, and he said he'd pitch in for rent. It was perfect. Then Eve...we were friends back in high school. I couldn't just let her wander around out there after her parents threw her out."**

**Claire tried to remember what Eve had said. Nothing, really. "Why did they do that?"**

**"She wouldn't take Protection from their Patron when she turned eighteen. Plus, she started dressing Goth when she was about your age. Said she was never going to kiss any vampire ass, no matter what."**

"does now" said Monica.

"yeah well Michael is different because we treat each over equally" said Eve.

**Michael made a helpless gesture with his hands. "At eighteen, they threw her out. Had to, or it would have cost the whole family their Protection. So she's on her own. She's done okay - she's safe here, and she's safe at the coffee shop. It's only the rest of the time she has to be careful."**

**Claire couldn't think of anything to say. She looked away from Michael, around the room. His bed was made. Oh my God, that's his bed. She tried to imagine Michael sleeping there, and couldn't. Although she could imagine some other things, and shouldn't have because it made her feel hot and embarrassed. **

"Claire! what a dirty mind" said Michael in a shocked voice.

**"Claire," he said quietly. She looked back at him. "Brandon's too young to be out before dark, so you're safe in the daytime, but don't stay out after dark. Got it?"**

**She nodded.**

**"About the other thing..."**

**"I won't tell," she said. "I won't, Michael. Not if you don't want me to."**

**He let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. "Thanks. I know it sounds stupid, but...I just don't want them to know yet. I need to figure out how to tell them."**

**"It's your business," Claire said. "And Michael? If you start, you know, getting this craving for red stuff...?"**

**"You'll be the first to know," he said. His eyes were steady and cool. "And I expect you to do whatever you have to do to stop me."**

**She shivered and said yes, okay, she'd stake him if she had to, but she didn't mean it.**

**She hoped she didn't, anyway.**

"end chapter" said Oliver "who wants to read next?"

"me me me" shouted Myrnin like a 5 year old.

* * *

**finally finished the chapter!**

**please review xxx 3 3 3**


	10. Chapter 8

**i am so sorry for not updating xxxx**

**Morganville vampires is not mine xxx**

* * *

**Shane's turn for cooking dinner, and he came up with chili dogs - more chili, but at least he did a good job with it. Claire had two, watching in amazement as Michael and Shane downed four each, and Eve nibbled one. She smiled at Shane, and shot back barbs whenever he sent one sailing her way, but Claire noticed something else.**

**Eve couldn't keep her eyes off of Michael. At first, Claire thought, She knows something, but then she saw the flush in Eve's cheeks showing through the pale makeup, and the glitter in her eyes.**

"oh god" said Eve.

**Oh. Well, she guessed Michael had looked pretty hot, grabbing her out of danger like that and dragging her out of harm's way. And now that she thought about it, Eve had been making little glances his direction every time they'd been together.**

**Eve finally shoved her plate away and claimed dibs on the bathroom for a long, hot, soaking bubble bath.**

**Which Claire wished she'd thought of first. She and Michael did the dishes while Shane practiced his zombie-fighting skills on Xbox.**

**"Eve likes you, you know," **

"what! you told him?" shouted Eve.

Myrnin ignored Eve.

**she said casually as she was rinsing off the last plate. He nearly dropped the one he was drying.**

**"What?"**

**"She does."**

**"Did she tell you that?"**

**"No."**

**"I don't think you understand Eve, then."**

**"Don't you like her?"**

**"Of course I like her!"**

**"Enough to...?"**

**"I am not talking about this." He put the plate into the drainer. "Jesus, Claire!"**

**"Oh, come on. You like her, don't you?"**

**"Even if I did - " He stopped short, glancing toward the doorway and lowering his voice. "Even if I did, there are a few problems, don't you think?"**

**"Everybody's got problems," she said. "Especially in this town. I've only been here six weeks, and I already know that."**

**Whatever he thought about that, he dried his hands and walked out. She heard him talking to Shane, and when she went out the two of them were deep into the video game, elbowing each other and fighting for every point.**

**Boys. Sheesh.**

"yeah boys sheesh" said Myrnin.

everyone gave Myrnin confused looks, which he ignored.

**She was on her way to her room, passing the bathroom, when she heard Eve crying. She knocked quietly, and looked in when Eve muffled her sobs. The door wasn't locked.**

**Eve was dressed in a black fluffy robe, sitting on the toilet; she'd stripped off her makeup and let her hair down, and she looked like a little girl in a too-large adult outfit. Fragile. She gave Claire a shaky grin and wiped tear tracks from her face. "Sorry," she said, and cleared her throat. "Kind of a suck-ass day, you know?"**

**"That guy. That vampire. He acted like he knew you," Claire said.**

**"Yeah. He - he's the one who gives my family Protection. I turned him down. He's not too happy." She gave a hollow little laugh. "Guess nobody likes rejection."**

**Claire studied her. "You okay, though?"**

**"Sure. Peachy." Eve waved her out. "Go study. Get smart enough to blow this town. I'm just a little bit down. Don't worry about it."**

**Later, when Michael started playing, Claire heard Eve crying through the wall again.**

**She didn't go investigate, and she didn't watch Michael vanish. She didn't think she had the courage.**

"i hate that feeling" said Shane.

**Shane went with her the next day to buy some clothes. It was only three blocks to the colorless retail section of town, with all its dingy-looking thrift stores; she didn't want his company, but he wasn't letting her go alone.**

**"You let Eve go alone," she pointed out as he sat on the couch putting on his shoes.**

**"Yeah, well, Eve has a car," he said. "Besides, I wasn't up. You get escorted. Live with it."**

**She felt secretly pleased about it. A little. It was another typically sunny day, the sidewalks almost vibrating with heat. Not a lot of pedestrians, but then, there rarely were. Shane walked with a long, loping stride, hands in his pockets; she had to hurry to keep up. She kept waiting for him to say something, but he didn't. After a while, she just started talking. "Did you have a lot of friends, growing up here?"**

**"Friends? Yeah, I guess. A few. Michael. I kind of knew Eve back then, but we hung with different crowds. Couple of other kids."**

**"What - what happened to them?"**

**"Nothing," Shane said. "They grew up, got jobs, claimed Protection, kept right on going. That's how it works in Morganville. You either stay in, or you run."**

**"Do you ever see them?" Because she'd been amazed how much she'd missed her friends back home, especially Elizabeth. She'd always thought she was a loner, but...maybe she wasn't. Maybe nobody really was.**

**"No," he said. "Nothing in common these days. They don't want to hang with somebody like me."**

**"Somebody who doesn't want to fit in." Shane glanced at her and nodded. "Sorry."**

**He shrugged. "Nobody's fault. So what about you? Any friends back home?"**

**"Yeah. Elizabeth, she's my best friend. We talked all the time, you know? But...when she found out I was going away to school, she just..." Claire decided a shrug was about the best opinion she could offer about it.**

**"Ever call her?"**

**"Yeah," she said. "But it's like we don't know each other anymore. You know? We have to think about what to say. It's weird."**

**"God, I know what you mean." Shane suddenly stopped and took his hands out of his pockets. They were in the middle of the block, in between two stores, and at first she thought he was going to look in a window, but then he said tensely, "Turn around and walk away. Just go into the first store you see, and hide."**

**"But - "**

**"Do it, Claire. Now."**

**She backed away and turned, walked as fast as she dared to the store they'd already passed. It was a skanky-looking used-clothing store, nowhere she'd willingly shop, but she pushed open the door and looked back over her shoulder as she did.**

**A cop car was gliding to the curb next to Shane. He was standing there, hands at his sides, looking bland and respectful, and the cop who was driving leaned out of the window to say something to him.**

**Claire nearly fell forward as the door was jerked open, and stumbled over the threshold into a darkened, musty-smelling interior.**

**"Hey there," the uniformed cop who'd opened the door said to her. He was an older man, blond, with thinning hair and a thick mustache. Cold blue eyes and crooked teeth. "Claire, right?"**

**"I - " She couldn't think what to say to that. All her life she'd been told not to lie to the police, but..."Yes, sir." She could tell he already knew, anyway.**

**"My name's Gerald. Gerald Bradfield. Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand. She swallowed hard, wiped her sweaty palm, and shook. She half expected that he'd click handcuffs around her wrists, but he just half crushed her hand as he pumped it twice, up and down, and let go. "People been looking for you, you know."**

**"I - didn't know that, sir."**

**"Didn't you?" Cold, cold eyes, no matter what the smile said. "Can't imagine that, little girl. Fact is, the mayor's daughter was worried about where you might have got off to. Asked us to find you. Make sure you were all right."**

**"I'm fine, sir." She could barely talk. Her mouth had gone dry. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"**

**He laughed. "Why would you be in trouble, Claire? No, you don't have to worry about that. Fact is, we already know where you are. And who you're running with. You should be more careful, honey. You're brand-new here, but you already know a hell of a lot more than you ought. And your friends aren't exactly the kind that guarantee a peaceful life in this town. Troublemakers. You don't look like a troublemaker to me. Tell you what, you move back into the dorm, be a good girl, go to classes, I'll personally make sure nothing happens to you."**

**Claire wanted to nod, wanted to agree, wanted to do anything to get away from this man. She looked around the store. There were other people in there, but she couldn't get any of them to look at her. It was like she didn't even exist.**

**"You don't think I can do it," he said. "I can. Count on it."**

**She looked back at him, and his eyes had gone white, with little dots of pupils in the middle. When he smiled, she saw a flash of fangs.**

**She gasped, backed away, and grabbed for the door handle. She lunged out into the street, running, and saw Shane standing right where he'd been, watching the police car pull away from the curb. He turned and grabbed her as she practically crashed into him. "Vampire!" she gasped. "V-vampire cop. In the store!"**

**"Must have been Bradfield," Shane said. "Tall guy? Kind of bald, with a mustache?"**

**She nodded, shaking all over. Shane didn't even look surprised, much less alarmed. "Bradfield's okay," ****he said. "Not the worst guy in town, that's for sure. He hurt you?"**

**"He - he just shook my hand. But he said he knew! He knew where I was living!"**

**Again, Shane didn't look surprised. "Yeah, well, that was just a matter of time. They pulled over to ask me your full name. They added it to inventory."**

**"Inventory?"**

**"That's what they call it. It's like a census. They always know how many are living in a place. Look, just walk, okay? And don't look so scared. They aren't going to jump us in broad daylight."**

"some of us might" said Oliver.

**Shane had a lot more confidence in that than she did, but she got control of her shaking and nodded, and followed him up another block to a thrift shop that looked brighter, friendlier, and less likely to have vampires lurking inside. "This is Mrs. Lawson's place. She used to be a friend of my mom's. It's okay."**

**Shane held open the door for her, like a gentleman. She supposed his mom had taught him that. Inside, the place smelled nice - incense, Claire thought - and there were lots of lights burning. No dark corners here, and a bell rang with a pleasant little tinkling sound when Shane let the door shut behind them.**

**"Shane!" A large woman in a brightly colored tie-dyed shirt and big, swirly skirt hustled over from behind the counter at the back, gathered Shane up in a hug, and beamed at him when she stepped back. "Boy, what the hell are you doing back here? Up to no good?"**

**"Up to no good, ma'am. Just like always."**

**"Thought so. Good for you." The woman's dark eyes landed on Claire. "Who's your little friend?"**

**"This is Claire. Claire Danvers. She's - she's a student at the college."**

**"Nice to meet you, Claire. Now. I'll bet you didn't come in here just to say 'hey,' boy, so what can I do for you?"**

**"Clothes," Claire said. "I'm looking for some clothes."**

**"Those we got. You're about a size four, right? Come with me, honey. I've got some really nice things just your size. Shane, you look like you could use some new clothes, too. Those jeans are raggedy."**

**"Supposed to be."**

**"Lord. Fashion. I just don't understand it anymore."**

**Maybe she didn't, but Mrs. Lawson had all kinds of cute tops and jeans and things, and cheap, too.**

**Claire picked an armload and followed her to the counter, where she counted out a grand total of twenty-two dollars, including tax. As Mrs. Lawson was ringing it up, Claire looked behind her to the things on the wall. There was some kind of official-looking certificate hanging there, framed, with an embossed seal... No, that wasn't a seal. That was a symbol. The same symbol as the one on the bracelet Mrs. Lawson wore.**

**"You take care," Mrs. Lawson said as she handed over the bag with the clothes. "Both of you. Tell Shane he needs to get himself right, and he needs to do it quick. They've been cutting him some slack, given what he went through, but that won't last. He needs to be thinking about his future."**

**Claire looked over her shoulder to where Shane was staring out the window, looking bored. Eyes half-closed.**

**"I'll tell him," she said doubtfully.**

**She couldn't imagine Shane was thinking about anything else.**

**Days slipped away, and Claire just let them go. She was worried about class, but she was tired and her bruises had turned Technicolor, and the last thing she wanted to do was be the center of attention. It was better - Shane had convinced her - to do some home study and get back to class when she was better, and Monica had had some time to let things blow over.**

**The week slipped away. She fell into a regular routine - up late with Michael and Shane and Eve, sleep until noon, argue over bathroom rights, cook, clean, study, do it all again. It felt...good. Real, somehow, in a way that dorm life didn't, exactly.**

**The following Monday, when she got up and made breakfast, she had to make it for two: Shane was awake, looking grumpy and groggy. He silently grabbed the bacon and fried some up while she did the eggs; there wasn't any banter, as there had been between him and Eve a couple of mornings back. She tried a little conversation, but he wasn't in the mood. He just grunted replies. She waited until he was done with his breakfast - which included a cup of coffee, brewed in the tiny little coffeemaker on the corner of the counter - before she asked, "What are you doing up so early?"**

**Shane leaned his chair back on two legs, balancing as he chewed. "Ask Michael."**

**Can't exactly do that... "You doing something for him?"**

**"Yeah." He thumped his chair back down and brushed his hand over his hair, which still looked like a mess. "Don't expect me to dress up or anything."**

**"What?"**

**"What you see is what you get." She just looked at him, frowning, trying to figure out what he was saying. "I'm taking you to class. You were going back today, right?"**

"ha little claire had to have an escort" said Myrnin.

**"You're kidding," she said flatly. He shrugged. "You're kidding. I'm not some six-year-old who needs her big brother to walk her to school! No way, Shane!"**

**"Michael thinks you should have an escort. Brandon was pretty pissed. He could find a way to take it out on you, even if he can't do it himself. He's got plenty of people who'd kick your ass on his say-so."**

**Shane's eyes slid away from hers. "Like Monica."**

"finally i am mentioned! i thought the book had forgotten me" exclaimed Monica.

**Oh, crap. "Monica belongs to Brandon?"**

**"The whole Morrell family does, far as I know. He's their own personal badass. So." He rubbed his hands together. "What exciting classes do we have today?"**

**"You can't go to class with me!"**

**"Hey, you're welcome to knock me out and stop me, but until you do, I'm your date for the day. So. ****What classes?"**

**"Calculus II, Physics of Sound, Chemistry III, chem lab, and Biochemistry."**

**"Holy crap. You really are smart. Right, I'll take some comics or something. Maybe my iPod."**

"stupid boy" said Myrnin.

**She kept glaring at him. It didn't seem to do any good - if anything, it just made him more cheerful.**

**"I always wanted to be a big man on campus," Shane said. "Guess this is my chance."**

**"I'm dead," she moaned, and rested her forehead on her hands.**

**"Not yet. And that's kind of the point."**

**She was afraid Shane would make a big deal out of it, but he didn't. He even combed his hair, which turned out to make him look totally hot in ways that she was afraid to notice. Especially if she had to spend the whole day with him. **

"i should comb my hair more often" said Shane.

** He'd picked a plain white shirt and his best pair of blue jeans, which were still out at the knees and frayed at the hems. And plain running shoes. "In case we have to do any retreating," he said. "Plus, kicking somebody when you're wearing flip-flops hurts."**

**"But you're not kicking anybody," she said quickly. "Right?"**

**"Nobody who doesn't deserve it," he said. "What else do I need to fit in?"**

**"Backpack." She found her spare - she'd brought two - and tossed it to him. He stuck in some paperbacks, a PSP, and his iPod and headphones, then raided the cabinets for Twinkies and bottled water. "We're not exactly going to the wilderness, Shane. You don't have to take everything. There are vending machines."**

**"Yeah? I didn't see any lunch in that schedule. You'll thank me later."**

**In fact, she did feel better with Shane loping along beside her; he was watching the shadows, the dark alleys, the empty buildings. Watching everything. Even though he'd packed the iPod, he wasn't listening to it. She missed hers, all of a sudden, and wondered if Monica had it.**

**They made it to campus without incident, and they were halfway across it, heading for her first class, when Claire suddenly thought of something and came to a full stop. Shane kept going for a couple of paces, then looked back.**

**"Monica," she said. "Monica's going to be hanging around. She usually is. She'll see you."**

**"I know." Shane hitched his backpack to a more comfortable spot. "Let's go."**

**"But - Monica!"**

**He just looked at her, and started walking. She stayed where she was. "Hey! You're supposed to be with me, not leaving me!"**

**"Monica's my business," he said. "Drop it." He waited for her, and she reluctantly caught up. "She doesn't mess with us, I won't mess with her. How's that?"**

**Wishful thinking, to Claire's mind. If Monica really had gotten it in for Shane, even a year or two ago, and gone far enough to kill his sister, she couldn't imagine any situation where Shane just walked away.**

**Shane wasn't a walking-away kind of guy.**

**The square concrete courtyard between the Architecture Building and the Math Sciences Building was packed with students crossing between classes. Now that Claire knew what to look for, she couldn't help but notice how many of them had bracelets - leather, metal, even braided cloth - with symbols on them.**

**And how many students didn't.**

**The ones who wore the symbols were the shiny, confident ones. Sorority girls. Frat guys. Athletes.**

**Popular kids. The loners, the sideliners, the dull and average and strange...they were the ones who weren't Protected.**

**They were the cattle.**

**Shane was scanning the crowd. Claire kept walking quickly toward the Math Building; she knew for a fact that Monica wouldn't be caught dead - or killing anybody - in a place that geeky. The only problem was that the third building on the Quad was the Business Administration Building, and that was, of course, where Monica liked to spend her time hanging out, looking for rich boys.**

**Almost there...**

**She was actually on the steps leading up to the Math Building when she heard Shane stop behind her. He was staring off into the Quad, and as Claire turned, she saw Monica, surrounded by a clique of admirers, staring right back at him. The two of them might as well have been alone. It was the kind of look that people in love exchanged, or people who were about to kill each other.**

**"Son of a bitch," Shane breathed. He sounded shaken.**

**"Come on," Claire said, and grabbed his elbow. She was afraid he wouldn't let her pull him on, but he did, as if his mind was somewhere else. When he finally glanced at her, his eyes were dark and hard.**

**"Not here," she said. "She won't come in."**

**"Why not?"**

**"It would embarrass her."**

**He nodded slowly, as if that made sense to him, and followed her to class.**

**Claire had a hard time keeping her mind on the droning lecture, which was familiar anyway, and she'd read far ahead of where the professor was teaching...but mostly, she kept thinking about Shane, sitting motionless next to her, hands on the desk, staring blankly into space. He wasn't even listening to his iPod. She could sense the tenseness in his body, like he was just waiting for the chance to hit something.**

**I knew this was a bad idea.**

**It was an hour-and-a-half lecture with a fifteen-minute break in the middle; when Shane got up and walked out, she hastily followed him. He went up to the glass doors and looked out over the Quad.**

**"She's gone," he said, without looking at Claire. "Quit worrying about me. I'm okay."**

**"She - Eve said she burned your house." No reply. "And - your sister - ?"**

**"I couldn't get her out," Shane said. "She was twelve, and I couldn't get her out of the house. That was my job. Watch out for her."**

Shane put his head on Claire's shoulder.

**He still didn't look at her. She couldn't think of anything to say. After a while, he walked away, into the boys' bathroom; she dashed into the girls', waiting impatiently for the line to clear, and came back out to find him nowhere in sight.**

**Oh, crap.**

**But when she went back to the lecture hall he was sitting right where he'd been, this time with his iPod earbuds in place.**

**She didn't say anything. Neither did he.**

**It was the longest lecture, and the least enjoyable, that Claire could remember.**

**Physics was in the same building; if Monica was waiting out in the wilting sun on the Quad, she'd be getting a really good tan. Shane sat like a statue, if a statue wore headphones and radiated angry coiled tension that made hair stand up on a person's arms. She felt like she was sitting next to an unexploded bomb, and given all of the physics she'd had, she understood exactly what that meant. Talk about potential energy...**

**Physics crawled slowly by. Shane broke out water and Twinkies, and shared. Chemistry was in the next building, but Claire made sure that they went out the side entrance, not through the Quad. No sign of Monica. She suffered through another hour and a half of chemistry and tension. Shane gradually unwound to the point that her nerves didn't jangle like sleigh bells every time he moved, and ended up playing on his PSP through most of the class. Killing zombies, she hoped. That seemed to put him in a good mood.**

**In fact, he was positively cheerful during chem lab, interested in the experiment and asking so many questions that the teaching assistant, who'd never had to come to Claire's table before, wandered over and stared at Shane as if trying to figure out what he was doing there.**

**"Hey, man," Shane said, and stuck out his hand. "Shane Collins. I'm - what's the word I'm looking for? ****Auditing. Auditing the class. With my friend here. Claire."**

**"Oh," said the TA, whose name Claire had never learned. "Right. Okay, then. Just - follow along."**

**Shane gave him a thumbs-up and a goofy grin. "Hey," he said in an undertone, leaning close to Claire.**

**"Any of this stuff blow up?"**

**"What? Um...yeah, if you do it wrong, I guess."**

**"I'm thinking about practical applications. Bombs. Things like that."**

**"Shane!" He really was distracting. And he smelled good. Guy good, which was different from girl good - darker, spicier, a smell that made her go all fluttery inside. Oh, come on, it's Shane! she told herself. That didn't help, especially when he shot her that crooked smile and a look that probably would kill most girls at ten feet. He's a slacker. And he's - not that smart. Maybe he was, though. Just in different places than she was. It was a new idea to her, but she kind of liked it.**

**She slapped his hand when he reached for the reagents, and concentrated on the details of the experiment.**

**She was concentrating so hard, in fact, and Shane had gotten so engrossed in watching what she was doing, that neither of them heard footsteps behind them. The first Claire knew about it was a searing, burning sensation down the right side of her back. She dropped the beaker she was holding and screamed - couldn't help it, because God, that hurt - and Shane whirled around and grabbed somebody by the collar who was backing away.**

**Gina, the Monickette. She snarled and slapped at him, but he didn't let go; Claire, gasping in pain and trying to twist to see what was happening on her back, could see that it was taking everything Shane had not to deck his prisoner then and there. The TA came rushing over and other students started realizing there was something wrong, or at least more interesting than lab work; Claire slipped off the stool at the table and tried to look at what was happening to her back, because it hurt. She smelled something terrible.**

**"Oh my God!" the TA blurted. He grabbed the bottled water out of Shane's backpack, opened it, and dumped the contents over Claire's back, then dashed to a cupboard on the side and came back with a box of baking soda. She heard it sizzle when it hit her back, and nearly passed out. "Here. Sit. Sit down. ****You, call an ambulance. Go!" As Claire sank down breathlessly again on another, lower stool, the TA grabbed a pair of scissors and cut her shirt up the back, and folded it aside. He cut her bra strap, too, and she just barely had the presence of mind to grab hold before the whole thing slid down her arms.**

**God, it hurts, it hurts... She tried not to cry. The burn was easing up a little as the baking soda did its work. Acid has a low pH; baking soda has a high one... Well, at least she'd retained some grasp of chemistry, even now.**

**She looked up and saw that Shane still had hold of Gina. He'd twisted her arm behind her back and made her let go of the beaker; what remained of the acid she'd splashed on Claire was still in the glass, looking as innocent as water.**

**"It was an accident!" she yelped, and stood on her tiptoes as Shane twisted harder. "I tripped! I'm sorry! Look, I didn't mean it..."**

**"We're not working with H SO today," the TA said grimly. "You've got no reason to be walking around with it. Claire? Claire, how bad is the pain?"**

**"I - it's okay. I'm okay," she said, though truthfully she had no idea if she was or not. She felt lightheaded, sick, and cold. Shock, probably. And embarrassment, because God, she was half naked in front of the entire chem lab, and...Shane..."Can I put something on?"**

**"No, you can't let anything touch that. The burn's through several layers of skin. It'll need treatment, and antibiotics. You just sit still." The TA turned to Shane and Gina, and leveled a finger at her. "You, you're talking to the campus police. I will not tolerate this kind of attack in my classroom. I don't care who your friends are!"**

**So he knew her. Or at least he knew enough. Shane was whispering something in Gina's ear, something too low for Claire to hear, but it couldn't be good, by the expression on the girl's face.**

**"Sir?" Claire asked faintly. "Sir, can I have a makeup on the lab work and - "**

**And she passed out before she finished saying, and I'm sorry for the mess.**

everyone had angry looks on there faces. Amelie got up and went to the secret room.

"i think its time for lunch" said Eve as she and Michael got up and went into the kitchen.

* * *

well there is the chapter xxx

please review xx


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